THE 
COUNT  OF  MONTE   CRISTO 


ALEXANDRE  DUMAS 


Dumas,  Vol.  One 


THE  WORKS  OF 

ALEXANDRE  DUMAS 

IN     THIRTY     VOLUMES 


TH  E     C  O  U  NT  -  O  F 
MONTE     CRIS  TO 


VOLUME     ONE 


ILLUSTRATED  WITH   DRAWINGS  ON  WOOD  BY 
EMINENT    FRENCH    AND    AMERICAN    ARTISTS 


NEW    YORK 

P.    F.    COLLIER    AND    SON 

MCM  I  I 


Stack 
Annex 


Al 
\°( 

v.  / 
CONTENTS  TO  VOLUME  I. 


CHAPTER  I. 

\  PAGE, 

Marseilles— The  Arrival. 1 

CHAPTER  IL 
Fatherand  Son 10 

CHAPTER  III. 
The  Catalans 17 

CHAPTER  IV. 
Conspiracy 27 

CHAPTER  V. 
The  Marriage- Feast 34 

CHAPTER  VI. 
The  Deputy  Procureur  Du  Roi 49 

CHAPTER  VII. 
The  Examination 60 


CHAPTER  VIII. 
The  Chateaud'If 70 

CHAPTER  IX. 
The  Evening  of  the  Betrothal 78 

CHAPTER  X. 
The  Small  Cabinet  of  the  Tuileries. . .  83 


iv  CONTENTS. 

CHAPTER  XI. 

PAGE. 

The  Ogre  of  Corsica 91 

CHAPTER  XIL 
Fatherand  Son 9» 

CHAPTER  XIII 
The  Hundred  Days 106 

CHAPTER  XIV. 
The  Two  Prisoners 112 

CHAPTER  XV. 
Number  34  and  Number  27 121 

CHAPTER  XVI. 
A  Learned  Italian 134 

CHAPTER  XVII. 
The  Abbe's  Chamber 146 

CHAPTER  XVIII. 
The  Treasure 169 

CHAPTER  XIX. 
The  Third  Attack 181 

CHAPTER  XX. 
The  Cemetery  of  the  Chateau  d'lf 191 

CHAPTER  XXL 
The  Isleof  Tiboulen 196 

CHAPTER  XXII. 
The  Smugglers 205 

CHAPTER  XXIII. 
The  Isie  of  Monte  Cristo...  .     21  ^ 


CHAPTER  XXIV. 
The  Secret  Cave .     220 


CONTENTS.  T 

CHAPTER  XXV. 

PAGE. 

The  Unknown 227 

CHAPTER  XXVI. 
The  Auberge  of  Pont  Du  Qard 286 

CHAPTER  XXVII. 
TheRecital 252 

CHAPTER  XXVI11. 
The  Prison  Register 266 

CHAPTER  XXIX. 
The  House  of  Morrel  £  Son. 272 

CHAPTER  XXX. 
The  Fifth  of  September 284 

CHAPTER  XXXI. 
Italy— "  Sinbad  the  Sailor" 299 

CHAPTER  XXXII. 
The  Waking 821 

CHAPTER  XXXUI. 
Roman  Bandits 827 

CHAPTER  XXXIV. 
The  Colosseum 855 

CHAPTER  XXXV. 
La  Mazzolata 884 

CHAPTER  XXXVI. 
The  Carnival  at  Rome 897 

CHAPTER  XXXVII. 
The  Catacombs  of  St.  Sebastian 414 

CHAPTER  XXXVIII. 
The  Rendezvous , , .     481 


vi  CONTENTS. 

CHAPTER  XXXIX. 

PAGX. 
The  Guests 489 

CHAPTER  XL. 
The  Breakfast 447 

CHAPTER  XLI. 
The  Presentation 469 

CHAPTER  XT.TT. 
Monsieur  Bertuccio 482 

CHAPTER  XLin. 
The  House  of  Auteuil 487 

CHAPTER  XUV. 
The  Vendetta 493 

CHAPTER  XLV. 
The  Rain  of  Blood 515 

CHAPTER  XLVL 
Unlimited  Credit 530 

CHAPTER  XLVH 
The  Dappled  Grays 545 

CHAPTER    XLVHI. 
Ideology 560 

CHAPTER  XLIX. 
Haydee 678 

CHAPTER   L. 
The  Morrel  Family , 577 

CHAPTER   LI. 
Pyramusand  Thisbe 586 

CHAPTER  LII. 
Toxicology 600 


The  Count  of  Monte  Cristo. 


CHAPTER  I. 

MARSEILLES — THE  ARRIVAL. 

ON  THE  28th  of  February,  1815,  the  watch  tower  of  Notre 
Dame  de  la  Garde  signaled  the  three-master,  the  Pharaon, 
from  Smyrna,  Trieste,  and  Naples. 

As  usual,  a  pilot  put  off  immediately,  and  rounding  the 
Chateau  d'lf,  got  on  board  the  vessel  between  Cape  Mor- 
gion  and  the  Isle  of  Riou. 

Immediately,  and  according  to  custom,  the  platform  of 
Fort  St.  Jean  was  covered  with  lookers-on;  it  is  always 
an  event  at  Marseilles  for  a  ship  to  come  into  port, 
especially  when  this  ship,  like  the  Pharaon,  had  been  built, 
rigged  and  laden  on  the  stocks  of  the  old  Phoc6e,  and 
belonged  to  an  owner  of  the  city. 

The  ship  drew  on;  it  had  safely  passed  the  strait,  which 
some  volcanic  shock  had  made  between  the  Isle  of  Cala- 
sareigne  and  the  Isle  of  Jaros;  had  doubled  Pomdgue,  and 
approached  the  harbor  under  topsails,  jib  and  foresail,  but 
so  slowly  and  sedately  that  the  idlers,  with  that  instinct 
which  misfortune  sends  before  it,  asked  one  another  w.i/11 
misfortune  could  have  happened  on  board.  Ho«'rver, 
those  experienced  in  navigation  saw  plainly  that  if  any 
accident  had  occurred  it  was  not  to  the  vessel  herself,  for 
she  bore  down  with  all  the  evidence  of  being  skillfully 
handled,  the  anchor  ready  to  be  dropped,  the  bowsprit- 
shrouds  loose,  and  beside  the  pilot,  who  was  steering  the 
Pharaon  by  the  narrow  entrance  of  the  port  Marseilles,  was 
a  young  man,  who,  with  activity  and  vigilant  eye,  watched 
every  motion  of  the  ship,  and  repeated  each  direction  of 
the  pilot. 

The  vague  disquietude  which  prevailed  among  the  spec- 
tators had  so  much  affected  one  of  the  crowd  that  he  did 
not  await  the  arrival  of  the  vessel  in  harbor,  but,  jumping 


2  THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CR1STO. 

into  a  small  skiff,  desired  to  be  pulled  alongside  the 
Pharaon,  which  he  reached  as  she  rounded  the  creek  of 
La  Reserve. 

When  the.  young  man  on  board  saw  this  individual 
approach  he  left  his  station  by  the  pilot,  and  came,  hat 
in  hand,  to  the  side  of  the  ship's  bulwarks. 

He  was  a  fine,  tall,  slim  young  fellow,  with  black-  eyes 
and  hair  as  dark  as  the  raven's  wing;  and  his  whole  appear- 
ance bespoke  that  calmness  and  resolution  peculiar  to  men 
accustomed  from  their  cradle  to  contend  with  danger. 

"Ah!  is  it  you,  Dant^s?"  cried  the  man  in  the  skiff. 
"What's  the  matter?  and  why  have  you  such  an  air  of 
sadness  aboard?" 

"A  great  misfortune,  M.  Morrel!"  replied  the  young 
man;  "a  great  misfortune,  for  me  especially!  Off  Civita 
Vecchia  we  lost  our  brave  Capt.  Leclere." 

"And  the  cargo?"  inquired  the  owner,  eagerly. 

"  Is  all  safe,  M.  Morrel;  and  I  think  you  will  be  satis- 
fied on  that  head.  But  poor  Capt.  Leclere " 

"What  happened  to  him?"  asked  the  owner,  with  an 
air  of  considerable  resignation.  "What  happened  to  the 
worthy  captain?" 

"He  died." 

"  Fell  into  the  sea?" 

"No,  sir,  he  died  of  brain  fever  in  dreadful  agony." 
Then,  turning  to  the  crew,  he  said:  "Look  out  there!  all 
ready  to  drop  anchor!" 

All  hands  obeyed.  At  the  same  moment  the  eight  or 
ten  seamen  who  composed  the  crew,  sprang  some  to  the 
w^in-sheets,  others  to  the  braces,  others  to  the  halyards, 
oth«;*s  to  the  jib-ropes,  and  others  to  the  topsail  brails 
The  •y-.^^g'  ^txT&r  g<rvto~  «*.-iwk-to''  see  his  orders  were 
promptly  and  accurately  obeyed,  and  then  turned  again  to 
the  owner. 

"And  how  did  this  misfortune  occur?"  inquired  he, 
resuming  the  inquiry  suspended  for  a  moment. 

"Alas!  sir,  in  the  most  unexpected  manner.  After  a 
long  conversation  with  the  harbor  master,  Capt.  Leclere 
left  Naples  greatly  disturbed  in  his  mind.  At  the  end  of 
twenty-four  hours  he  was  attacked  by  a  fever,  and  died 
three  days  afterward.  We  performed  the  usual  burial 
service,  and  he  is  at  his  rest,  sewn  up  in  his  hammock  with 
two  bullets  of  thirty-six  pounds  each  at  his  head  and  heels, 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRI8TO.  3 

off  the  island  of  El  Giglio.  We  bring  to  his  widow  his 
sword  and  cross  of  honor.  It  was  worth  while,  truly/' 
added  the  young  man,  with  a  melancholy  smile,  "to  make 
war  against  the  English  for  ten  years,  and  to  die  in  his 
bed  at  last,  like  everybody  else." 

"Why,  you  see,  Edmond,"  replied  the  owner,  who 
appeared  more  comforted  at  every  moment,  "we  are  all 
mortal,  and  the  old  must  make  way  for  the  young.  If 
not,  why,  there  would  be  no  promotion;  and  as  you  have 
assured  me  that  the  cargo  -  " 

"  Is  all  safe  and  sound,  M.  Morrel,  take  my  word  for  it; 
and  I  advise  you  not  to  take  1,OOOZ.  for  the  "profit;8  of  the 


voyage. 

Then,  as      ey  were    us    passng 
young  man  shouted  out:  "Ready,  there,  to  lower  topsails, 


hen,  as  they  were  just  passing  the  Eound  Tower,  the 


foresails  and  jib!" 

The  order  was  executed  as  promptly  as  if  on  board  a 
man-of-war. 

"  Let  go!  and  brail  all  !"  At  this  last  word  all  the  sails 
were  lowered  and  the  bark  moved  almost  imperceptibly 
onward. 

"Now,  if  you  will  come  on  board,  M.  Morrel,"  said 
Dantes,  observing  the  owner's  impatience,  "here  is  your 
supercargo,  M.  Danglars,  coming  out  of  his  cabin,  who 
will  furnish  you  with  every  particular.  As  for  me,  I  must 
look  after  the  anchoring,  and  dress  the  ship  in  mourning." 

The  owner  did  not  wait  to  be  twice  invited.  He  seized 
a  rope  which  Dantes  flung  to  him,  and,  with  an  activity 
that  would  have  done  credit  to  a  sailor,  climbed  up  the 
side  of  the  ship,  while  the  young  man,  going  to  his  task, 
left  the  conversation  to  the  individual  whom  he  had  an- 
nounced under  the  name  of  Danglars,  who  now  came 
toward  the  owner.  He  was  a  man  of  25  or  26  years 
of  age,  of  unprepossessing  countenance,  obsequious  to 
his  superiors,  insolent  to  his  inferiors;  and  then,  besides 
his  position  as  responsible  agent  on  board,  which  is  always 
obnoxious  to  the  sailors,  he  was  as  much  disliked  by  the 
crew  as  Edmond  Dantes  was  beloved  by  them. 

"Well,  M.  Morrel,"  said  Danglars,  "you  have  heard  of 
the  misfortune  that  has  befallen  us?" 

"Yes  —  yes!  poor  Capt.  Leclere!  He  was  a  brave  -and  an 
honest  man!" 

"And  a  first-rate  seaman,  grown  old  between  sky  and 


4  THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO. 

ocean,  as  should  a  man  charged  with  the  interests  of  a 
house  so  important  as  that  of  Morrel  &  Son,"  replied 
Danglars. 

"But/'  replied  the  owner,  following  with  his  look 
Dantes,  who  was  watching  the  anchoring  of  his  vessel,  "it 
seems  to  me  that  a  sailor  needs  not  to  be  so  old  as  you  say, 
Danglars,  to  understand  his  business;  for  our  friend  Ed- 
mond  seems  to  understand  it  thoroughly,  and  not  to  require 
instruction  from  any  one/' 

"Yes,"  said  Danglars,  casting  toward  Edmond  a  look 
in  which  a  feeling  of  envy  was  strongly  visible.  "Yes,  he 
is  young,  and  youth  is  invariably  self-confident.  Scarcely 
was  the  captain's  breath  out  of  his  body  than  he  assumed 
the  command  without  consulting  any  one,  and  he  caused 
us  to  lose  a  day  and  a  half  at  the  Isle  of  Elba,  instead  of 
making  for  Marseilles  direct." 

"As  to  taking  command  of  the  vessel,"  replied  Morrel, 
"that  was  his  duty  as  captain's  mate;  as  to  losing  a  day 
and  a  half  off  the  Isle  of  Elba,  he  was  wrong,  unless  the 
ship  wanted  some  repair." 

"The  ship  was  as  well  as  I  am,  and  as  I  hope  you  are,  M. 
Morrel,  and  this  day  and  a  half  was  lost  from  pure  whim, 
for  the  pleasure  of  going  ashore,  and  nothing  else." 

"Dantes!"  said  the  ship-owner,  turning  toward  the 
young  man,  "come  this  way!" 

"In  a  moment,  sir,"  answered  Dantes,  "and  I'm  with 
you!"  Then,  calling  to  the  crew,  he  said:  "Let  go!" 

The  anchor  was  instantly  dropped,  and  the  chain  ran 
rattling  through  the  port-hole.  Dantes  continued  at  his 
post  in  spite  of  the  presence  of  the  pilot  until  this 
maneuver  was  completed,  and  then  he  added: 

"  Lower  the  pennant  half-mast  high — put  the  ensign  in 
a  weft,  and  slope  the  yards!" 

"You  see,"  said  Dauglars,  "he  fancies  himself  captain 
already,  upon  my  word." 

"And  so,  in  fact,  he  is,"  said  the  owner. 

"  Except  your  signature  and  your  partner's,  M. 
Morrel." 

"And  why  should  he  not  have  this?"  asked  the  owner; 
"  he  is  young,  it  is  true,  but  he  seems  to  me  a  thorough 
seaman,  and  of  full  experience." 

A  cloud  passed  over  Danglar's  brow. 

"Your  pardon,  M.  Morrel,"  said  Dantes,  approaching; 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO.  5 

"  the  ship  now  rides  at  anchor,  and  I  am  at  your  service. 
You  hailed  me,  I  think?" 

Danglars  retreated  a  step  or  two. 

"  I  wished  to  inquire  why  you  stopped  at  the  Isle  of 
Elbe?" 

"I  do  not  know,  sir;  it  was  to  fulfill  a  last  instruction  of 
Capt.  Leclere,  who,  when  dying,  gave  me  a  packet  for  the 
Marechal  Bertrand." 

"Then  did  you  see  him,  Edmond?" 

"Who?" 

"Themarechal." 

"Yes." 

Morrel  looked  around  him,  and  then,  drawing  Dantes 
on  one  side,  he  said  suddenly: 

"And  how  is  the  emperor?" 

"Very  well,  as  far  as  I  could  judge  from  my  eyes." 

"You  saw  the  emperor,  then?" 

"He  entered  the  marechal's  apartment  while  I  was 
there." 

"And  you  spoke  to  him?" 

"Why,  it  was  he  who  spoke  to  me,  sir,"  said  Dant6s, 
with  a  smile. 

"And  what  did  he  say  to  you?" 

"Asked  me  questions  about  the  ship,  the  time  it  left 
Marseilles,  the  course  she  had  taken,  and  what  was  her 
cargo.  I  believe,  if  she  had  not  been  laden,  and  I  had 
been  her  master,  he  would  have  bought  her.  But  I  told 
him  I  was  only  mate,  and  that  she  belonged  to  the  firm  of 
Morrel  &  Son.  'Ah!  ah!'  he  said,  'I  know  them!  The 
Morrels  have  been  ship-owners  from  father  to  son;  and 
there  was  a  Morrel  who  served  in  the  same  regiment  with 
me  when  I  was  in  garrison  at  Valence.'" 

"Pardieu!  and  that  is  true!"  cried  the  owner,  greatly 
delighted.  "And  that  was  Policar  Morrel,  my  uncle,  who 
was  afterward  a  captain.  Dantes,  you  must  tell  my  uncle 
that  the  emperor  remembered  him,  and  you  will  see  it 
will  bring  tears  into  the  old  soldier's  eyes.  Come,  come!" 
continued  he,  patting  Edmond's  shoulder  kindly,  "you 
did  very  right,  Dantes,  to  follow  Capt.  Leclere's  instruc- 
tion and  touch  at  the  Isle  of  Elba,  although  if  it  were 
known  that  you  had  conveyed  a  packet  to  the  marechal, 
and  had  conversed  with  the  emperor,  it  might  bring  you 
into  trouble." 


6  THE  CO  UNI  OF  MONTE  CRI8TO. 

"  How  could  that  bring  me  into  trouble,  sir?"  asked 
Dantes;  "for  I  did  not  even  know  of  what  I  was  the 
bearer;  and  the  emperor  merely  made  such  inquiries  as 
he  would  of  the  first  comer.  But  your  pardon,  here  are 
the  officers  of  health  and  the  customs  coming  alongside!" 
and  the  young  man  went  to  the  gangway.  As  he  departed, 
Danglars  approached  and  said; 

"Well,  it  appears  that  he  has  given  you  satisfactory 
reasons  for  his  landing  at  Porto-Ferrajo?" 

"Yes,  most  satisfactory,  my  dear  Danglars." 

"Well,  so  much  the  better,"  said  the  supercargo;  "  for 
it  is  always  painful  to  see  a  comrade  who  does  not  do  his  duty. " 

"Dantes  has  done  his,"  replied  the  owner,  "and  that 
is  not  saying  much.  It  was  Capt.  Leclere  who  gave  orders 
for  this  delay." 

"  Talking  of  Capt.  Leclere,  has  not  Dantes  given  you  a 
letter  from  him?" 

To  me? — no — was  there  one?" 

I  believe  that,  besides  the  packet,  Capt.  Leclere  had 
confided  a  letter  to  his  care." 

(Of  what  packet  are  you  speaking,  Danglars?" 
'Why,  that  which  Dantes  left  at  Porto-Ferrajo." 
'  How  do  you  know  he  had  a  packet  to  leave  at  Porto- 
Ferrajo?" 

Danglers  turned  very  red. 

"I  was  passing  close  to  the  door  of  the  captain's  cabin, 
which  was  half -open,  and  I  saw  him  give  the  packet  and 
letter  to  Dantes." 

"  He  did  not  speak  to  me  of  it,"  replied  the  ship-owner; 
"but  if  there  be  any  letter  he  will  give  it  to  me." 

Danglars  reflected  for  a  moment. 

"Then,  M.  Morrel,  I  beg  of  you,"  said  he,  "not  to 
say  a  word  to  Dantes  on  the  subject;  I  may  have  been 
mistaken." 

At  this  moment  the  young  man  returned,  and  Danglars 
retreated  as  before. 

"Well,  my  dear  Dantes,  are  you  now  free?"  inquired  the 
owner. 

"Yes,  sir." 

"You  have  not  been  long  detained." 

"  No.  I  gave  the  custom-house  officers  a  copy  of  our 
bill  of  lading;  and,  as  to  the  other  papers,  they  sent  a  man 
off  with  the  pilot,  to  whom  I  gave  them." 


THE  CO  UNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO.  7 

"  Then  you  have  nothing  more  to  do  here?" 

"No;  all  is  arranged  now." 

"Then  you  can  come  and  dine  with  me?" 

"  Excuse  me,  M.  Morrel,  excuse  me,  if  you  please;  hut 
my  first  visit  is  due  to  my  father,  though  I  am  not  the  less 
grateful  for  the  honor  you  have  done  me." 

"  Eight,  Dantes,  quite  right.  I  always  knew  you  were 
a  good  son." 

"And,"  inquired  Dantes,  with  some  hesitation,  "do 
you  know  how  my  father  is?" 

"Well,  I  believe,  my  dear  Edmond,  though  I  have  not 
seen  him  letely." 

"  Yes,  he  likes  to  keep  himself  shut  up  in  his  little  room." 

"  That  proves,  at  least,  that  he  has  wanted  for  nothing 
during  your  absence." 

Dantes  smiled. 

"  My  father  is  proud,  sir;  and  if  he  had  not  a  meal  left 
I  doubt  if  he  would  have  asked  anything  from  any  one 
except  God." 

"Well,  then,  after  this  first  visit  has  been  made  we  rely 
on  you." 

"  I  must  again  excuse  myself,  M.  Morrel;  for  after  this 
first  visit  has  been  paid  I  have  another,  which  I  am  most 
anxious  to  pay." 

"True,  Dantes,  I  forgot  that  there  was  at  the  Catalans 
some  one  who  expects  you  no  less  than  your  father — the 
lovely  Mercede-s> 

Dantes  blushed.  . 

"Ah!  ah!"  said  the  ship-owner,  "that  does  not  astonish 
me,  for  she  has  been  to  me  three  times,  inquiring  if  there 
were  any  news  of  the  Pharaon.  Peste  !  Edmond,  you  have 
a  very  handsome  mistress!" 

"  »he  is  not  my  mistress,"  replied  the  young  sailor, 
gravely;  "she  is  my  betrothed." 

"  Sometimes  one  and  the  same  thing,"  said  Morrel,  with 
a  smile. 

"  Not  with  us,  sir,"  replied  Dantes. 

"Well,  well,  my  dear  Edmond,"  continued  the  owner, 
"do  not  let  me  detain  you.  You  have  managed  my  affairs 
so  well  that  I  ought  to  allow  you  all  the  time  you  require 
for  your  own.  Do  you  want  any  money?" 

"No,  sir;  I  have  all  my  pay  to  take — nearly  three 
months'  wages." 


8  THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CR1STO. 

"You  are  a  careful  fellow,  Edmond." 

"  Say  I  have  a  poor  father,  sir." 

"  Yes,  yes,  I  know  how  good  a  son  you  are,  so  now  haste 
away  to  see  your  father.  I  have  a  son,  too,  and  I  should 
be  very  wroth  with  those  who  detained  him  from  me  after 
a  three  months'  voyage." 

"Then  I  have  your  leave,  sir?" 

"Yes,  if  you  have  nothing  more  to  say  to  me." 

"Nothing." 

"  Capt.  Leclere  did  not,  before  he  died,  give  you  a  letter 
for  me?" 

"  He  was  unable  to  write,  sir.  But  that  reminds  me 
that  I  must  ask  your  leave  of  absence  for  some  days." 

"To  get  married?" 

"Yes,  first,  and  then  to  go  to  Paris." 

"Very  good;  have  what  time  you  require,  Dantes.  It 
will  take  quite  six  weeks  to  unload  the  cargo,  and  we 
cannot  get  you  ready  for  sea  until  three  months  after  that; 
only  be  back  again  in  three  months,  for  the  Pharaon," 
added  the  owner,  patting  the  young  sailor  on  the  back, 
"cannot  sail  without  her  captain." 

"Without  her  captain!"  cried  Dantes,  his  eyes  sparkling 
with  animation.  "  Pray  mind  what  you  say,  for  you  are 
touching  on  the  most  secret  wishes  of  my  heart.  Is  it 
really  your  intention  to  nominate  me  captain  of  the 
Pharaon?" 

"If    I   were  sole  owner  I  would    nominate  you  this 

.  moment,  my  dear  Dantds,  and  say  that  it  is  settled;  but  I 

"  have  a  partner,  and  you  know  the  Italian  proverb:  'CM  ha 

compagno   ha  padrone' — 'He  who  has  a  partner  has  a 

master.'     But  the  thing  is  at  least  half  done,  as  you  have 

one  out  of  two  voices.     Rely  on  me  to  procure  you  the 

other;  I  will  do  my  best." 

"Ah!  M.  Morrel,"  exclaimed  the  young  seaman,  with 
tears  in  his  eyes,  and  grasping  the  owner's  hand,  "  M. 
Morrel,  I  thank  you  in  the  name  of  my  father  and  of 
Mercedes." 

"Good,  good,  Edmond.  There's  a  sweet  little  cherub 
that  sits  up  aloft  that  keeps  a  good  watch  for  good  fellows. 
Go  to  your  father;  go  and  see  Mercedes,  and  come  to  me 
afterward." 

"  Shall  I  row  you  on  shore?" 

"No,  I  thank  you;  I  shall  remain  and  look  over  the 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO.  9 

accounts  with   Danglars.     Have  you  been  satisfied  with 
him  this  voyage?" 

"  That  is  according  to  the  sense  you  attach  to  the  ques- 
tion, sir.  Do  you  mean  he  is  a  good  comrade?  No,  for  I 
think  he  never  liked  me  since  the  day  when  I  was  silly 
enough,  after  a  little  quarrel  we  had,  to  propose  to  him  to 
stop  for  ten  minutes  at  the  Isle  of  Monte  Cristo  to  settle 
the  dispute — a  proposition  which  I  was  wrong  to  suggest 
and  he  quite  right  to  refuse.  If  you  mean  as  responsible 
agent  that  you  ask  me  the  question,  I  believe  there  is 
nothing  to  say  against  him,  and  that  you  will  be  content 
with  the  way  in  which  he  has  performed  his  duty." 

"  But  tell  me,  Dantes,  if  you  had  command  of  the 
Pharaon  should  you  have  pleasure  in  retaining  Danglars?" 

"Captain  or  mate,  M.  Morrel,"  replied  Dantes,  "I 
shall  always  have  the  greatest  respect  for  those  who  possess 
oui'  owners'  confidence." 

"Good,  good!  Dante's.  I  see  you  are  a  thorough  good 
fellow  and  will  detain  you  no  longer.  Go,  for  I  see  how 
impatient  you  are." 

Then  I  have  leave?" 
'Go,  I  tell  you." 

'  May  I  have  the  use  of  your  skiff  ?" 
r  Certainly." 

•Then,   for  the  present,   M.  Morrel,  farewell,  and  a 
thousand  thanks." 

"  I  hope  soon  to  see  you  again,  my  dear  Edmond.  Good 
luck  to  you !" 

The  young  sailor  jumped  into  the  skiff  and  sat  down  in 
the  stern,  desiring  to  be  put  ashore  at  the  Canebidre.  The 
two  rowers  bent  to  their  work,  and  the  little  boat  glided 
away  as  rapidly  as  possible  in  the  midst  of  the  thousand 
vessels  which  choke  up  the  narrow  way  which  leads  between 
the  two  rows  of  ships  from  the  mouth  of  the  harbor  to  the 
Quai  d'Orleans. 

The  ship-owner,  smiling,  followed  him  with  his  eyes 
until  he  saw  him  spring  out  on  the  quay  and  disappear  in 
the  midst  of  the  throng,  which  from  5  o'clock  in  the 
morning  until  9  o'clock  at  night  choke  up  this  famous 
street  of  La  Canebiere,  of  which  the  modern  Phoceens  are 
so  proud,  and  say  with  all  the  gravity  in  the  world,  and 
with  that  accent  which  gives  so  much  character  to  what  is 
:iid:  "  If  Paris  had  La  Canebidre,  Paris  would  be  a 


10  THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CR1STO. 

second  Marseilles."  On  turning  round,  the  owner  saw 
Danglars  behind  him,  who,  apparently,  attended  his  orders, 
but  in  reality  followed,  as  he  did,  the  young  sailor  with 
his  eyes,  only  there  was  a  great  difference  in  the  expression 
of  the  looks  of  the  two  men  who  thus  watched  the  move- 
ments of  Edmond  Dante's. 


CHAPTER  II. 

FATHER  AND   SON. 

WE  WILL  leave  Danglars  struggling  with  the  feelings  of 
hatred,  and  endeavoring  to  insinuate  in  the  ear  of  the 
ship-owner,  Morrel,  some  evil  suspicions  against  his  com- 
rade, and  follow  Dant6s;  who,  after  having  traversed  the 
Canebiere,  took  the  Rue  de  Noailles,  and,  entering  into  a 
small  house  situated  on  the  left  side  of  the  Allees  de 
Meillan,  rapidly  ascended  four  stories  of  a  dark  staircase, 
holding  the  baluster  in  his  hand,  while  with  the  other  he 
repressed  the  beatings  of  his  heart,  and  paused  before  a 
half-opened  door,  which  revealed  all  the  interior  of  a  small 
apartment. 

This  apartment  was  occupied  by  Dante's'  father.  The 
news  of  the  arrival  of  the  Pharaon  had  not  yet  reached 
the  old  man,  who,  mounted  on  a  chair,  was  amusing  himself 
with  staking  some  nasturtiums  with  tremulous  hand, 
which,  mingled  with  clematis,  formed  a  kind  of  trellis  at 
his  window.  Suddenly,  he  felt  an  arm  thrown  round  his 
body,  and  a  well-known  voice  behind  him  exclaimed: 
"  Father!  dear  father!" 

The  old  man  uttered  a  cry  and  turned  round;  then, 
seeing  his  son,  he  fell  into  his  arms,  pale  and  trembling. 

"What  ails  you,  my  dearest  father?  Are  you  ill?"  in- 
quired the  young  man,  much  alarmed. 

"  No,  no,  my  dear  Edmond — my  boy — my  son — no;  but 

I  did  not  expect  you;  and  joy,  the  surprise  of  seeing  you 
so  suddenly — ah!  I  really  seem  as  if  I  were  going  to  die." 

"Come,  come,  cheer  up,  my  dear  father!     'Tis  I — really 

II  They  say  joy  never  hurts,  and  so  I  come  to  you  without 
any  warning.     Come,  now,  look  cheerfully  at  me,  instead 
of  gazing  as  you  do  with  your  eyes  so  wide.     Here  I  am 
back  again,  and  we  will  now  be  happy." 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO.  11 

"  Yes,  yes,  my  boy,  so  we  will — so  we  will,"  replied  the 
old  man;  "but  how  shall  we  be  happy?  Will  you  never 
leave  me  again?  Come,  tell  me  all  the  good  fortune  that 
has  befallen  you." 

"  God  forgive  me,"  said  the  young  man,  "  for  rejoicing 
at  happiness  derived  from  the  misery  of  others;  but, 
heaven  knows,  I  did  not  seek  this  good  fortune;  it  has 
happened,  and  I  really  cannot  affect  to  lament  it.  The 
good  Capt.  Leclere  is  dead,  father,  and  it  is  probable  that, 
with  the  aid  of  M.  Morrel,  I  shall  have  his  place.  Do  you 
understand,  father?  Only  imagine  me  a  captain  at  20, 
with  100?.  pay  and  a  share  in  the  profits!  Is  this  not  more 
than  a  poor  sailor  like  me  could  have  hoped  for?" 

"Yes,  my  dear  boy,"  replied  the  old  man,  "  and  much 
more  than  you  could  have  expected." 

"Well,  then,  with  the  first  money  I  touch,  I  mean  you 
to  have  a  small  house,  with  a  garden  to  plant  your  clematis, 
your  nasturtiums  and  your'  honeysuckles.  But  what  ails 
you,  father?  Are  not  you  well?" 

"'Tis  nothing,  nothing;  it  will  soon  pass  away;"  and  as 
he  said  so  the  old  man's  strength  failed  him  and  he  fell 
backward. 

"  Come,  come,"  said  the  young  man,  "  a  glass  of  wine, 
father,  will  revive  you.  Where  do  you  keep  your  wine?" 

"No,  no;  thank  ye.  You  need  not  look  for  it;  I  do 
not  want  it,"  said  the  old  man. 

"Yes,  yes,  father,  tell  me  where  it  is,"  and  he  opened 
two  or  three  cupboards. 

"It  is  no  use,"  said  the  old  man,  " there  is  no  wine." 

"What!  no  wine?"  said  Dantes,  turning  pale,  and 
looking  alternately  at  the  hollow  cheeks  of  the  old  man 
and  the  empty  cupboards.  "What!  no  wine?  Have  you 
wanted  money,  father?" 

"  I  want  nothing  since  I  see  you,"  said  the  old  man. 

"Yet,"  stammered  Dantes,  wiping  the  perspiration 
from  his  brow,  "I  gave  you  200/.  when  I  left,  three 
months  ago." 

"Yes,  yes,  Edmond,  that  is  true,  but  you  forgot  at  that 
time  a  little  debt  to  our  neighbor,  Caderousse.  He  re- 
minded me  of  it,  telling  me  if  I  did  not  pay  it  for  you  he 
would  be  paid  by  M.  Morrel;  and  so,  you  see,  lest  he 
might  do  you  an  injury " 

" 


12  THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO. 

"Why,  I  paid  him." 

"But/'  cried  Dantes,  "it  was  140/.  I  owed  Caderousse." 

"Yes,"  stammered  the  old  man. 

"And  you  paid  him  out  of  the  200/1  I  left  you?" 

The  old  man  made  a  sign  in  the  affirmative. 

"  So  that  you  have  lived  for  three  months  on  60/.  ?" 
muttered  the  young  man. 

"You  know  how  little  I  require,"  said  the  old  man. 

"Heaven  pardon  me,"  cried  Edmond,  going  on  his 
knees  before  the  old  man. 

"What  are  you  doing?" 

"You  have  wounded  my  very  heart." 

"  Never  mind  it,  for  I  see  you  once  more,"  said  the  old 
man;  "  and  now  all  is  forgotten — all  is  well  again. 

"Yes,  here  I  am,"  said  the  young  man,  "with  a  happy 
prospect  and  a  little  money.  Here,  father!  here!"  he 
said,  "  take  this — take  it,  and  send  for  something  imme- 
diately." And  he  emptied  his  pockets  on  the  table,  whose 
contents  consisted  of  a  dozen  pieces  of  gold,  five  or  six 
crowns  and  some  smaller  coin.  The  countenance  of  old 
Dantes  brightened. 

"Whom  does  this  belong  to?"  he  inquired. 

"Tome!  to  you!  to  us!  Take  it;  buy  some  provisions; 
be  happy,  and  to-morrow  we  shall  have  more." 

"  Gently,  gently,"  said  the  old  man,  with  a  smile;  "and 
by  your  leave  I  will  use  your  purse  moderately,  for  they 
would  say,  if  they  saw  me  buy  too  many  things  at  a  time, 
that  I  had  been  obliged  to  await  your  return  in  order  to  be 
able  to  purchase  them." 

"Do  as  you  please;  but,  first  of  all,  pray  have  a  servant, 
father.  I  will  not  have  you  left  alone  so  long.  I  have 
some  smuggled  coffee  and  most  capital  tobacco  in  a  small 
chest  in  the  hold,  which  you  shall  have  to-morrow.  But, 
hush!  here  comes  somebody." 

"  'Tis  Caderousse,  who  has  heard  of  your  arrival,  and, 
no  doubt,  comes  to  congratulate  you  on  your  fortunate 
return." 

"Ah!  lips  that  say  one  thing  while  the  heart  thinks 
another,"  murmured  Edmond.  "But,  never  mind,  he  is 
a  neighbor  who  has  done  us  a  service  on  a  time,  so  he's 
welcome." 

As  Edmond  finished  his  sentence  in  a  low  voice  there 
appeared  at  the  door  the  black  and  shock  head  of  Cade- 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRI8TO.  13 

rousse.  He  was  a  man  of  25  or  26  years  of  age,  and  held 
in  his  hand  a  morsel  of  cloth,  which,  in  his  capacity  as  a 
tailor,  he  was  about  to  turn  into  the  lining  of  a  coat. 

"What!  is  it  you,  Edmond,  returned?"  said  he,  with  a 
broad  Marseillaise  accent,  and  a  grin  that  displayed  his 
teeth,  as  white  as  ivory. 

"Yes,  as  you  see,  neighbor  Caderousse;  and  ready  to  be 
agreeable  to  you  in  any  and  every  way,"  replied  Dantes, 
but  ill- concealing  his  feeling  under  this  appearance  of 
civility. 

"  Thanks — thanks;  but,  fortunately,  I  do  not  want  for 
anything;  and  it  chances  that  at  times  there  are  others 
who  have  need  of  me." 

Dantes  made  a  gesture. 

"  I  do  not  allude  to  you,  my  boy.  No!  no!  I  lent  you 
money  and  you  returned  it;  that's  like  good  neighbors,  and 
we  are  quits." 

"We  are  never  quits  with  those  who  oblige  us,"  was 
Dantes'  reply;  "  for  when  we  don't  owe  them  money  we 
owe  them  gratitude." 

"What's  the  use  of  mentioning  that?  What  is  done  is 
done.  Let  us  talk  of  your  happy  return,  my  boy.  I  had 
gone  on  the  quay  to  match  a  piece  of  mulberry  cloth,  when 
I  met  friend  Danglars. 

'What!  you  at  Marseilles?' 
'Yes/  says  he. 

'I  thought  you  were  at  Smyrna.' 
'I  was,  but  am  now  back  again.' 
'And  where  is  the  dear  boy,  our  little  Edmond ?* 
'Why,  with  his  father,  no  doubt,'  replied  Danglars. 
And  so  I  came,"  added  Caderousse,  "as  fast  as  I  could  to 
have  the  pleasure  of  shaking  hands  with  a  friend." 

"Worthy  Caderousse!"  said  the  old  man,  "he  is  so  much 
attached  to  us!" 

"Yes,  to  be  sure  I  am.  I  love  and  esteem  you  because 
honest  folks  are  so  rare.  But  it  seems  you  have  come  back 
rich,  my  boy,"  continued  the  tailor,  looking  askance  at 
the  handful  of  gold  and  silver  which  Dantes  had  thrown 
on  the  table. 

The  young  man  remarked  the  greedy  glance  which  shone 
in  the  dark  eyes  of  his  neighbor. 

"Eh!"  he  said,  negligently,  "this  money  is  not  mine. 
I  was  expressing  to  my  father  my  fear  that  he  had  wanted 


14  THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRI8TO. 

many  things  in  my  absence,  and  to  convince  me  he  emptied 
his  purse  on  the  table.  Come,  father,"  added  Dantes, 
"put  this  money  back  in  your  box — unless  neighbor 
Caderousse  wants  anything,  and  in  that  case  it  is  at  his 
service." 

"No,  my  boy,  no,"  said  Caderousse.  "I  am  not  in 
any  want,  thank  God!  the  state  nourishes  me.  Keep  your 
money — keep  it,  I  say;  one  never  has  too  much;  but,  at 
the  same  time,  my  boy,  I  am  as  much  obliged  by  your  offer 
as  if  I  took  advantage  of  it." 

"It  was  offered  with  good-will,"  said  Dantes. 

"  No  doubt,  my  boy;  no  doubt.  Well,  you  stand  well 
with  M.  Morrel,  I  hear,  you  insinuating  dog,  you!" 

"  M.  Morrel  has  always  been  exceedingly  kind  to  me," 
replied  Dantes. 

"Then  you  were  wrong  to  refuse  to  dine  with  him." 

"What!  did  you  refuse  to  dine  with  him?"  said  old 
Dantes.  "And  did  he  invite  you  to  dine?" 

"Yes,  my  dear  father,"  replied  Edmond,  smiling  at  his 
father's  astonishment  at  the  excessive  honor  paid  to  his 
son. 

"And  why  did  you  refuse,  my  son?"  inquired  the  old 
man. 

"  That  I  might  the  sooner  see  you  again,  my  dear 
father,"  replied  the  young  man.  "  I  was  most  anxious  to 
see  you." 

"  But  it  must  have  vexed  M.  Morrel,  good,  worthy  man/' 
said  Caderousse.  "And  when  you  are  looking  forward  to 
be  captain,  it  was  wrong  to  annoy  the  owner." 

"  But  I  explained  to  him  the  cause  of  my  refusal," 
replied  Dantes;  "and  I  hope  he  fully  understood  it." 

"  Yes,  but  to  be  captain  one  must  give  way  a  little  to 
one's  patrons." 

"I  hope  to  be  captain  without  that,"  said  Dantes. 

"  So  much  the  better — so  much  the  better!  Nothing 
will  give  greater  pleasure  to  all  your  old  friends;  and  I 
know  one  down  there  behind  the  citadel  of  St.  Nicolas  who 
will  not  be  sorry  to  hear  it." 

"Mercedes?"  said  the  old  man. 

"  Yes,  my  dear  father;  and  with  your  permission,  now  I 
have  seen  you  and  know  you  are  well,  and  have  all  you 
require,  I  will  ask  your  consent  to  go  and  pay  a  visit  to  the 
Catalans." 


THE  GO  UNT  OF  MONTE  CRI8TO.  15 

"Go,  my  dear  boy,"  said  old  Dantes;  "and  heaven 
bless  you  in  your  wife,  as  it  has  blessed  me,  my  son!" 

"His  wife!"  said  Caderousse;  "why,  how  fast  you  go 
on,  father  Dantes;  she  is  not  his  wife  yet,  it  appears." 

"  No,  but  according  to  all  probability  she  soon  will  be," 
replied  Edmond. 

«Yes — yes,"  said  Caderousse;  "but  you  were  right  to 
return  as  soon  as  possible,  my  boy." 

"And  why?" 

"  Because  Mercedes  is  a  very  fine  girl,  and  fine  girls 
never  lack  lovers;  she,  particularly,  has  them  by  dozens." 

"Really?"  answered  Edmond,  with  a  smile  which  had 
in  it  traces  of  slight  uneasiness. 

"Ah,  yes,"  continued  Caderousse,  "and  capital  offers, 
too;  but,  you  know,  you  will  be  captain,  and  who  could 
refuse  you  then?" 

"  Meaning  to  say,"  replied  Dantes,  with  a  smile  which 
but  ill-concealed  his  trouble,  "  that  if  I  were  not  a  cap- 
tain  " 

"Eh — eh!"  said  Caderousse,  shaking  his  head. 

"  Come,  come,"  said  the  sailor;  "I  have  a  better  opinion 
than  you  of  women  in  general,  and  of  Mercedes  in  par- 
ticular; and  I  am  certain  that,  captain  or  not,  she  will 
remain  ever  faithful  to  me." 

"  So  much  the  better — so  much  the  better,"  said  Cade- 
rousse. "When  one  is  going  to  be  married  there  is 
nothing  like  implicit  confidence;  but  never  mind  that,  my 
boy,  but  go  and  announce  your  arrival,  and  let  her  know 
all  your  hopes  and  prospects." 

"I  will  go  directly,"  was  Edmond's  reply;  and,  em- 
bracing his  father  and  saluting  Caderousse,  he  left  the 
apartment. 

Caderousse   lingered  for  a  moment,  then,  taking  leave 
of  old   Dantes,  he  went  down-stairs  to  rejoin  Danglars, 
who  awaited  him  at  the  corner  of  the  Eue  Senac. 
'Well,"  said  Danglars,  "did  you  see  him?" 
'  I  have  just  left  him,"  answered  Caderousse. 
'Did  he  allude  to  his  hope  of  being  captain?" 
'  He  spoko  of  it  as  a  thing  already  decided." 
'Patience!"  said  Danglars,  "he  is  in  too  much  hurry, 
it  appears  to  me." 

"Why,  it  seems  M.  Morrel  has  promised  him  the 
thing." 


16  THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO. 

"  So  that  he  is  quite  elate  about  it." 

"  That  is  to  say,  he  is  actually  insolent  on  the  matter — 
has  already  offered  me  his  patronage,  as  if  he  were  a  grand 
personage,  and  proffered  me  a  loan  of  money,  as  though  he 
were  a  banker/' 

" Which  you  refused?" 

"Most  assuredly;  although  I  might  easily  have  accepted 
it,  for  it  was  I  who  put  into  his  hands  the  first  silver  he 
ever  earned;  but  now  M.  Dantes  has  no  longer  any  occasion 
for  assistance — he  is  about  to  become  a  captain." 

"Pooh!"  said  Danglars;  "he  is  not  one  yet." 

"Ma  foil  and  it  will  be  as  well  he  never  should>  be," 
answered  Caderousse;  "  for  if  he  should  be  there  will  be 
really  no  speaking  to  him." 

"If  we  choose,"  replied  Danglars,  "he  will  remain 
what  he  is;  and  perhaps  become  even  less  than  he  is." 

"What  do  you  mean?" 

"Nothing;  I  was  speaking  to  myself.  And  is  he  still 
in  love  with  the  Catalan?" 

"Over  head  and  ears;  but,  unless  I  am  much  mistaken, 
there  will  be  a  storm  in  that  quarter." 

"Explain  yourself." 

"Why  should  I?" 

"It  is  more  important  than  you  think,  perhaps.  You 
do  not  like  Dantes?" 

"I  never  like  upstarts." 

"  Then  tell  me  all  you  know  relative  to  the  Catalan." 

"I  know  nothing  for  certain;  only  I  have  seen  things 
which  induce  me  to  believe,  as  I  told  you,  that  the  future 
captain  will  find  some  annoyance  in  the  environs  of  the 
Vieilles  Infirmeries." 

"What  do  you  know?     Come,  tell  me!" 

"Well,  every  time  I  have  seen  Mercedes  come  into  the 
city  she  has  been  accompanied  by  a  tall,  strapping,  black- 
eyed  Catalan,  with  a  red  complexion,  brown  skin  and  fierce 
air,  whom  she  calls  cousin. 

"  Eeally;  and  do  you  think  this  cousin  pays  her  atten- 
tions?" 

"I  only  suppose  so.  What  else  can  a  strapping  chap  of 
21  mean  with  a  fine  wench  of  17?" 

"And  you  say  Dante's  has  gone  to  the  Catalans?" 

"He  went  before  I  came  down." 

"Let  us  go  the  same  way.     We  will  stop  at  La  Eeserve, 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRI8TO.  17 

and  we  can  drink  a  glass  of  La  Malgue  while  we  wait  for 
news." 

"Come  along,"  said  Caderousse;  "but  mind  you  pay 
the  shot." 

"Certainly,"  replied  Danglars;  and,  going  quickly  to 
the  spot  alluded  to,  they  called  for  a  bottle  of  wine  and 
two  glasses. 

Pere  Pamphile  had  seen  Dantes  pass  not  ten  minutes 
before,  and,  assured  that  he  was  at  the  Catalans,  they  sat 
down  under  the  budding  foliage  of  the  planes  and  syca- 
mores, in  the  branches  of  which  the  birds  were  joyously 
singing  on  a  lovely  day  in  early  spring. 


CHAPTER  III. 

THE  CATALANS. 

ABOUT  a  hundred  paces  from  the  spot  where  the  two 
friends  were,  with  their  looks  fixed  on  the  distance  and 
their  ears  attentive,  while  they  imbibed  the  sparkling  wine 
of  La  Malgue,  behind  a  bare  and  torn  and  weather-worn 
wall,  was  the  small  village  of  the  Catalans.  One  day  a  mys- 
terious colony  quitted,,  Spain  and  settled  on  the  tongue  of 
land  on  which  it  is  to  this  day.  It  arrived  from  no  one 
knew  where,  and  spoke  an  unknown  tongue.  One  of  its 
chiefs,  who  understood  Proven9al,  begged  the  commune 
of  Marseilles  to  give  them  this  bare  and  barren  promontory, 
on  which,  like  the  sailors  of  the  ancient  times,  they  had 
run  their  boats  ashore.  The  request  was  granted;  and 
three  months  afterward,  around  the  twelve  or  fifteen  small 
vessels  which  had  brought  these  gypsies  of  the  sea,  a  small 
village  sprang  up.  This  village,  constructed  in  a  singular 
and  picturesque  manner,  half  Moorish,  half  Spanish,  is 
that  we  behold  at  the  present  day  inhabited  by  the 
descendants  of  those  roen  who  speak  the  language  of  their 
fathers.  For  three  or  four  centuries  they  remained  faithful 
to  this  small  promontory,  on  which  they  had  settled  like  a 
flight  of  sea-birds  without  mixing  with  the  Marsellaise 
population,  inter- marrying,  and  preserving  their  original 
customs  and  the  costume  of  their  mother-country,  as  they 
have  preserved  its  language. 

Our  readers  will  follow  us  along  the  only  street  of  this 


18  THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO. 

little  village  and  enter  with  us  into  one  of  the  houses,  on 
the  outside  of  which  the  sun  had  stamped  that  beautiful 
color  of  the  dead  leaf  peculiar  to  the  buildings  of  the 
country,  and  within,  a  coat  of  limewash,  of  that  white 
tint  which  forms  the  only  ornament  of  Spanish  posadas. 
A  young  and  beautiful  girl,  with  hair  as  black  as  jet,  her 
eyes  as  velvety  as  the  gazelle's,  was  leaning  with  her  back 
against  the  wainscot,  rubbing  in  her  slender  fingers, 
molded  after  the  antique,  a  bunch  of  heath  blossoms,  the 
flowers  of  which  she  was  picking  off  and  strewing  on  the 
floor;  her  arms  bare  to  the  elbow,  embrowned,  and  resem- 
bling those  of  the  Venus  at  Aries,  moved  with  a  kind  of 
restless  impatience,  and  she  tapped  the  earth  with  her 
pliant  and  well-formed  foot,  so  as  to  display  the  pure  and 
full  shape  of  her  well-turned  leg,  in  its  red  cotton  stock- 
ing, with  gray  and  blue  clocks.  At  three  paces  from  her, 
seated  in  a  chair  which  he  balanced  on  two  legs,  leaning 
his  elbows  on  an  old  worm-eaten  table,  was  a  tall  young 
man  of  20  or  22,  who  was  looking  at  her  with  an  air  in 
which  vexation  and  uneasiness  were  mingled.  He  ques- 
tioned her  with  his  eyes,  but  the  firm  and  steady  gaze  of 
the  young  girl  controlled  his  look. 

"You  see,  Mercedes,"  said  the  young  man,  "here  is 
caster  come  round  again;  tell  me,  is  this  the  moment  for 
a  wedding?" 

"I  have  answered  you  a  hundred  times,  Fernand;  and 
really  you  must  be  your  own  enemy  to  ask  me  again." 

"Well,  repeat  it — repeat  it,  I  beg  of  you,  that  I  may  at 
last  believe  it!  Tell  me  for  the  hundredth  time  that  you 
refuse  my  love,  which  had  your  mother's  sanction.  Make 
me  fully  comprehend  that  you  are  trifling  with  my  happi- 
ness, that  my  life  or  death  are  immaterial  to  you.  Ah !  to 
have  dreamed  for  ten  years  of  being  your  husband,  Mer- 
cedes, and  to  lose  that  hope,  which  was  the  only  stay  of 
my  existence!" 

"At  least  it  was  not  I  who  ever  encouraged  you  in  that 
shape,  Fernand,"  replied  Mercedes;  "you  cannot  reproach 
me  with  the  slightest  coquetry.  I  have  always  said  to  you: 
'I  love  you  as  a  brother;  but  do  not  ask  from  me  more 
than  sisterly  affection,  for  my  heart  is  another's.'  Is  not 
this  true,  Fernand?" 

"Yes,  I  know  it  well,  Mercedes,"  replied  the  young 
man.  "Yes,  you  have  been  cruelly  frank  with  me;  but  do 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRI8TO.  19 

you  forget  that  it  is  among  the  Catalans  a  sacred  law  to 
niter-marry?" 

"You  mistake,  Fernand,  it  is  not  a  law,  but  merely  a 
custom;  and,  I  pray  of  you,  do  not  cite  this  custom  in  your 
favor.  You  are  included  in  the  conscription,  Fernand,  and 
are  only  at  liberty  on  sufferance,  liable  at  any  moment  to 
be  called  upon  to  take  up  arms.  Once  a  soldier,  what 
would  you  do  with  me,  a  poor  orphan,  forlorn,  without 
fortune,  with  nothing  but  a  hut,  half  in  ruins,  containing 
some  ragged  nets,  a  miserable  inheritence  left  by  my  father 
to  my  mother,  and  by  my  mother  to  me?  She  has  been 
dead  a  year,  and,  you  know,  Fernand,  I  have  subsisted 
almost  entirely  on  public  charity.  Sometimes  you  pretend 
I  am  useful  to  you,  and  that  is  an  excuse  to  share  with  me 
the  produce  of  your  fishing,  and  I  accept  it,  Fernand, 
because  you  are  the  son  of  my  father's  brother;  because  we 
were  brought  up  together,  and  still  more  because  it  would 
give  you  so  much  pain  if  I  refuse.  But  I  feel  very  deeply 
that  this  fish  which  I  go  and  sell,  and  with  the  produce  of 
which  I  buy  the  flax  I  spin,  I  feel  very  keenly,  Fernand, 
that  this  is  charity." 

"And  if  it  were,  MercM^s,  poor  and  lone  as  you  are, 
you  suit  me  as  well  as  the  daughter  of  the  first  ship-owner, 
or  the  richest  banker  of  Marseilles.  What  do  such  as  we 
desire  but  a  good  wife  and  careful  housekeeper,  and  where 
can  I  look  for  these  better  than  in  you?" 

"Fernand,"  answered  MercMe's,  shaking  her  head,  "a 
woman  becomes  a  bad  manager,  and  who  shall  say  she  will 
remain  an  honest  woman  when  she  loves  another  man 
better  than  her  husband?  Rest  content  with  my  friend- 
ship, for  I  repeat  to  you  that  is  all  I  can  promise,  and  I 
will  promise  no  more  than  I  can  bestow." 

"I  understand,"  replied  Fernand,  "you  can  endure 
your  own  wretchedness  patiently,  but  you  are  afraid  of 
mine.  Well,  Merc6d6s,  beloved  by  you,  I  would  tempt 
fortune;  you  would  bring  me  good  luck,  and  I  should 
become  rich.  I  could  extend  my  occupation  as  a  fisher- 
man, might  get  a  place  as  clerk  in  a  warehouse,  and  become 
myself  a  dealer  in  time." 

"  You  could  do  no  such  thing,  Fernand  ;  you  are  a 
soldier,  and  if  you  remain  at  the  Catalans  it  is  because 
there  is  not  a  war  ;  so  remain  a  fisherman,  and  contented 
with  my  friendship  as  I  cannot  give  you  more." 


20  THE  CO  UNT  OF  MONTE  CRI8TO. 

"  Well,  you  are  right,  Mercedes.  I  will  be  a  sailor  ;  in- 
stead of  the  coBtume  of  our  fathers,  which  you  despise,  I 
will  wear  a  varnished  hat,  a  striped  shirt  and  a  blue  jacket, 
with  an  anchor  on  the  buttons.  Would  not  that  dress 
please  you  ?" 

"  What  do  you  mean  ?"  asked  Mercedes,  darting  at  him 
an  angry  glance — "  what  do  you  mean  ?  I  do  not  under- 
stand you." 

"  I  mean,  Mercedes,  that  you  are  thus  harsh  and  cruel 
with  me,  because  you  are  expecting  some  one  who  is  thus 
attired  ;  but,  perhaps,  he  whom  you  await  is  inconstant,  or 
if  he  is  not  the  sea  is  so  to  him." 

"  Fernand  I"  cried  Mercedes,  "  I  believed  you  were 
good-hearted,  and  I  was  mistaken  !  Fernand,  you  are 
wicked  to  call  to  your  aid  jealousy  and  the  anger  of  God  I 
Yes,  I  will  not  deny  it,  I  do  await,  and  I  do  love  him  to 
whom  you  allude  ;  and,  if  he  does  not  return,  instead  of 
accusing  him  of  the  inconstancy  which  you  insinuate,  I 
will  tell  you  that  he  died  loving  me  and  me  only."  The 
young  Catalan  made  a  gesture  of  rage. 

"  I  understand  you,  Fernand  ;  you  would  be  revenged  on 
him  because  I  do  not  love  you  ;  you  would  cross  your 
Catalan  knife  with  his  dirk.  What  end  would  that  answer  ? 
To  lose  you  my  friendship  if  he  were  conquered,  and  see 
that  friendship  changed  into  hate  if  you  were  conqueror. 
Believe  me,  to  seek  a  quarrel  with  a  man  is  a  bad  method 
of  pleasing  the  woman  who  loves  that  man.  No,  Fernand, 
you  will  not  thus  give  way  to  evil  thoughts.  Unable  to 
have  me  for  your  wife,  you  will  content  yourself  with  hav- 
ing me  for  your  friend  and  sister  ;  and  besides,"  she  added, 
her  eyes  troubled  and  moistened  with  tears,  "  wait,  wait, 
Fernand  ;  you  said  just  now  that  the  sea  was  treacherous, 
and  he  has  been  gone  four  months,  and  during  these  four 
months  we  have  had  some  terrible  storms." 

Fernand  made  no  reply,  nor  did  he  attempt  to  check  the 
tears  which  flowed  down  the  cheeks  of  Mercedes,  although 
for  each  of  these  tears  he  would  have  shed  his  heart's 
blood  ;  but  these  tears  flowed  for  another.  He  arose,  paced 
awhile  up  and  down  the  hut,  and  then,  suddenly  stopping 
before  Mercedes,  with  his  eyes  glowing  and  his  hands 
clinched — "Say,  Mercedes,"  he  said,  "once  for  all,  is 
this  your  final  determination  ?" 

"  I  love  Edmond  Dante's,"  the  young  girl  calmly  replied, 
"  and  none  but  Edmond  shall  ever  be  my  husband." 


THE  COUNT  O*  MONTR  ORI8TO.  21 

"  And  you  will  always  love  him  ?" 

"  As  long  as  I  live." 

Fernand  let  fall  his  head  like  a  defeated  man,  heaved  a 
sigh  which  resembled  a  groan,  and  then  suddenly  looking 
her  full  in  the  face,  with  clinched  teeth  and  expanded 

nostrils,  said:     "  But  if  he  is  dead " 

'  If  he  is  dead  I  shall  die  too." 

'  If  he  has  forgotten  you " 

'  Mercedes  \"  cried  a  voice,  joyously,  outside  the  house 
—  '  Mercedes  !" 

'  Ah  !"  exclaimed  the  young  girl,  blushing  with  delight, 
and  springing  up  with  love,  ' '  you  see  he  has  not  forgotten 
me,  for  here  he  is  !"  And,  rushing  toward  the  door,  she 
opened  it,  saying:  "  Here,  Edmond,  here  I  am  !" 

Fernand,  pale  and  trembling,  receded  like  a  traveler  at 
the  sight  of  a  serpent,  and  fell  into  a  chair  beside  him. 
Edmond  and  Mercedes  were  clasped  in  each  other's  arms. 
The  burning  sun  of  Marseilles,  which  penetrated  the  room 
by  the  open  door,  covered  them  with  a  flood  of  light.  At 
first  they  saw  nothing  around  them.  Their  intense  happi- 
ness isolated  them  from  all  the  rest  of  the  world,  and  they 
only  spoke  in  broken  words,  which  are  the  tokens  of  a  joy 
so  extreme  that  they  seem  rather  the  expression  of  sorrow. 
Suddenly  Edmond  saw  the  gloomy  countenance  of  Fer- 
nand, as  it  was  defined  in  the  shadow,  pale  and  threatening, 
and  by  a  movement,  for  which  he  could  scarcely  account  to 
himself,  the  young  C  atalan  placed  his  hand  on  the  knife  at 
his  belt. 

"  Ah  !  your  pardon,"  said  Dantes,  frowning  in  his  turn  ; 
"  I  did  not  pevceive  that  there  were  three  of  us."  Then, 
turning  to  Mercedes,  he  inquired:  "Who  is  this  gentle- 
man ?'y 

"  One  who  will  be  your  best  friend,  Dantes,  for  he  is  my 
friend,  my  cousin,  my  brother;  it  is  Fernand — the  man 
whom,  after  you,  Edmond,  I  love  the  best  in  the  world. 
Do  you  not  remember  him  ?" 

"  Yes  !"  said  Edmond,  and  without  relinquishing  Mer 
cedes'  hand  clasped  in  one  of  his  own,  he  extended  the 
other  to  the  Catalan  with  a  cordial  air.  But  Fernand, 
instead  of  responding  to  this  amiable  gesture,  remained 
mute  and  trembling.  Edmond  then  cast  his  eyes  scruti- 
nizingly  at  Mercedes,  agitated  and  embarrassed,  and  then 
again  on  Fernand,  gloomy  and  menacing.  This  look  told 
him  all,  and  his  brow  became  suffused  and  angry. 

Dr.MAs — VOL.   I. — 2 


22  THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO. 

"  I  did  not  know,  when  I  came  with  such  haste  to  you, 
that  I  was  to  meet  an  enemy  here." 

"  An  enemy  I"  cried  MercSdds,  with  an  angry  look  at  her 
cousin.  "  An  enemy  in  my  house,  do  you  say,  Edmond  ? 
If  I  believed  that,  I  would  place  my  arm  under  yours  and 
go  with  you  to  Marseilles,  leaving  the  house  to  return  to  it- 
no  more." 

Fernandas  eye  darted  lightning.  "  And  should  any  mis- 
fortune occur  to  you,  dear  Edmond,"  she  continued,  with 
the  samo  calmness  which  proved  to  Fernand  that  the 
young  girl  had  read  the  very  innermost  depths  of  his 
sinister  thought,  "  if  misfortune  should  occur  to  you,  I 
would  ascend  the  highest  point  of  the  Cape  de  Morgion 
and  cast  myself  headlong  from  it." 

Fernand  became  deadly  pale.  "  But  you  are  deceived, 
Edmond,"  she  continued.  "  You  have  no  enemy  here — 
there  is  no  one  but  Fernand,  my  brother,  who  will  grasp 
your  hand  as  a  devoted  friend." 

And  at  these  words  the  young  girl  fixed  her  imperious 
look  on  the  Catalan,  who,  as  if  fascinated  by  it,  came 
slowly  toward  Edmond,  and  offered  him  his  hand.  His 
hatred,  like  a  powerless  though  furious  wave,  was  broken 
against  the  strong  ascendency  which  Mercedes  exercised 
over  him.  Scarcely,  however,  had  he  touched  Edmond's 
hand  than  he  felt  he  had  done  all  he  could  do,  and  rushed 
hastily  out  of  the  house. 

"  Oh  !"  he  exclaimed,  running  furiously  and  tearing 
her  hair.  "Oh!  who  will  deliver  me  from  this  man? 
Wretched — wretched  that  I  am  !" 

"  Halloo,  Catalan  !  Halloo,  Fernand  !  where  are  you 
running  to  ?"  exclaimed  a  voice. 

The  young  man  stopped  suddenly,  looked  around  him, 
and  perceived  Caderousse  sitting  at  table  with  Danglars 
under  an  arbor. 

" Well, "said  Caderousse,  "why  don't  you  come?  Are 
you  really  in  such  a  hurry  that  you  have  no  time  to  say 
'  how  do  '  to  your  friends  ?" 

"  Particularly  when  they  have  still  a  full  bottle  before 
them,"  added  Danglars.  Fernand  looked  at  them  both 
with  a  stupefied  air,  but  did  not  say  a  word. 

"  He  seems  besotted,"  said  Danglars,  pushing  Cade- 
rousse with  his  knee.  •"  Are  we  mistaken,  and  is  Dantes 
triumphant  in  spite  of  all  we  have  believed?" 


THE  CO  UNT  OF  MONTE  CRI8TO.  23 

"  Why,  we  must  inquire  into  that,"  was  Caderousse's 
reply  ;  and,  turning  toward  the  young  man,  said:  "  Well, 
Catalan,  can't  you  make  up  your  mind?" 

Fernand  wiped  away  the  perspiration  streaming  from  his 
brow  and  slowly  entered  the  arbor,  whose  shade  seemed  to 
restore  somewhat  of  calmness  to  his  senses  and  whose  cool- 
ness somewhat  of  refreshment  to  his  exhausted  body. 

"Good  day,"  said  he.  "You  called  me,  didn't  you?" 
And  he  fell,  rather  than  sat  down,  on  one  of  the  seats 
which  surrounded  the  table. 

"I  called  you  because  you  were  running  like  a  madman, 
and  I  was  afraid  you  would  throw  yourself  into  the  sea," 
said  Caderousse,  laughing.  "Why!  when  a  man  has 
friends,  they  are  not  only  to  offer  him  a  glass  of  wine,  but, 
moreover,  to  prevent  his  swallowing  three  or  four  pints  of 
water  unnecessarily." 

Fernand  gave  a  groan,  which  resembled  a  sob,  and 
dropped  his  head  into  his  hands,  his  elbows  leaning  on  the 
table. 

"Well,  Fernand,  I  must  say,"  said  Caderousse,  begin- 
ning the  conversation,  with  that  brutality  of  the  common 
people  in  which  curiosity  destroys  all  diplomacy,  "you 
look  uncommonly  like  a  rejected  lover;"  and  he  burst  into 
a  hoarse  laugh. 

"Bah!"  said  Danglars,  "a  lad  of  his  make  was  not  born 
to  be  unhappy  in  love.  You  are  laughing  at  him,  Cade- 
rousse!" 

"No,"  he  replied,  "only  hark  how  he  sighs!  Come, 
come,  Fernand!  said  Caderousse,  "hold  up  your  head 
and  answer  us.  It's  not  polite  not  to  reply  to  friends  who 
ask  news  of  your  health. 

"My  health  is  well  enough,"  said  Fernand,  clinching 
bis  hands  without  raising  his  head. 

"Ah!  you  see  Danglars,"  said  Caderousse,  winking  at  hia 
friend,  "this  is  it:  Fernand,  whom  you  see  here,  is  a  good 
and  brave  Catalan,  one  of  the  best  fishermen  in  Marseilles, 
and  he  is  in  love  with  a  very  fine  girl,  named  Merc6d6s; 
but,  it  appears,  unfortunately,  that  the  fine  girl  is  in  love 
with  the  second  in  command  on  board  the  Pharaon;  and, 
as  the  Pharaon  arrived  to-day — why,  you  understand!" 

"  No,  I  do  not  understand,"  said  Danglars. 

"  Poor  Fernand  has  been  dismissed,"  continued  Cade- 
rousse. 


24  THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRI8TO. 

"Well,  and  what  then?"  said  Fernand,  lifting  up  hia 
head  and  looking  at  Caderousse  like  a  man  who  looks  for 
Borne  one  on  whom  to  vent  his  anger;  "Mercedes  is  not 
accountable  to  any  person,  is  she?  Is  she  not  free  to  love 
whomsoever  she  will?" 

"  Oh!  if  you  take  it  in  that  sense,"  said  Caderousse,  "it 
is  another  thing.  But  I  thought  you  were  a  Catalan,  and 
they  told  me  the  Catalans  were  not  men  to  allow  themselves 
to  be  supplanted  by  a  rival.  It  was  even  told  me  that 
Fernand,  especially,  was  terrible  in  his  vengeance. " 

Fernand  smiled 'pi teously. 

"A  lover  is  never  terrible/'  he  said. 

"Poor  fellow!"  remarked  Danglars,  affecting  to  pity 
the  young  man  from  the  bottom  of  his  heart.  "Why,  you 
see,  he  did  not  expect  to  see  Dantes  return  so  suddenly! 
He  thought  he  was  dead,  perhaps;  or  perchance  faithless! 
These  things  always  come  on  us  more  severely  when  they 
come  suddenly." 

"Ah,  mafoi,  under  any  circumstances!"  said  Caderousse, 
who  drank  as  he  spoke,  and  on  whom  the  fumes  of  the 
wine  of  La  Malgue  began  to  take  effect — "  under  any  cir- 
cumstances Fernand  is  not  the  only  person  put  out  by  the 
fortunate  arrival  of  Dantes;  is  he,  Danglars?" 

"  No,  you  are  right — and  I  should  say  that  would  bring 
him  ill-luck." 

"  Well,  never  mind,"  answered  Caderousse,  pouring  out 
a  glass  of  wine  for  Fernand  and  filling  his  own  for  the 
eighth  or  ninth  time,  while  Danglars  had  merely  sipped  his. 
"  Never  mind — in  the  meantime  he  marries  Merc6de"s — 
the  lovely  Mercedes — at  least,  he  returns  to  do  that." 

During  this  time  Danglars  fixed  his  piercing  glance  on 
the  young  man,  on  whose  heart  Caderousse's  words  fell 
like  molten  lead. 

"  And  when  is  this  wedding  to  be?"  he  asked. 

"  Oh,  it  is  not  yet  fixed!"  murmured  Fernand. 

"No,  but  it  will  be,"  said  Caderousse,  "as  surely  as 
Dante's  will  be  captain  of  the  Pharaon — eh,  Danglars?" 

Danglars  shuddered  at  this  unexpected  attack,  and  turned 
to  Caderousse,  whose  countenance  he  scrutinized,  to  try 
and  detect  whether  the  blow  was  premeditated;  but  he  read 
nothing  but  envy  in  a  countenance  already  rendered  brutal 
and  stupid  by  drunkenness. 

"Well,"  said   he,  filling  the  glasses,  "let  us  drink  to 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRI8TO.  25 

Capt.  Edmund  Dantes,  husband  of  the  beautiful 
Catalan!" 

Caderousse  raised  his  glass  to  his  mouth  with  unsteady 
hand,  and  swallowed  the  contents  at  a  gulp.  Fernand 
dashed  his  on  the  ground. 

"Eh!  eh!  eh!"  stammered  Caderousse.  "What  do  I 
see  down  there  by  the  wall,  in  the  direction  of  the  Cata- 
lans? Look,  Fernand!  your  eyes  are  better  than  mine.  I 
believe  I  see  double.  You  know  wine  is  a  deceiver;  but  I 
should  say  it  was  two  lovers  walking  side  by  side,  and  hand 
in  hand.  Heaven  forgive  me!  they  do  not  know  that  we 
can  see  them,  and  they  are  actually  embracing!" 

Dauglars  did  not  lose  one  pang  that  Fernand  endured. 

"  Do  you  know  them,  M.  Fernand?"  he  said. 

"Yes/' was  the  reply,  in  a  low  voice.  "It  is  M. 
Edmond  and  Mdlle.  Mercedes!" 

"Ah  !  see  there,  now!"  said  Caderousse;  "and  I  did 
not  recognize  them!  Halloo,  Dantes!  halloo,  lovely  damsel! 
Come  this  way  and  let  us  know  when  the  wedding  is  to 
be,  for  M.  Fernand  here  is  so  obstinate  he  will  not  tell  us!" 

"Hold  your  tongue,  will  you?"  said  Danglars,  pretend- 
ing to  restrain  Caderousse,  who,  with  the  tenacity  of 
drunkards,  leaned  out  of  the  arbor.  "  Try  to  stand  up- 
right, and  let  the  lovers  make  love  without  interruption. 
See!  look  at  M.  Fernand,  and  follow  his  example;  he  is 
well-behaved !" 

Fernand,  probably  excited  beyond  bearing,  pricked  by 
Dauglars,  as  the  bull  is  by  the  bandilleros,  was  about  to 
rush  out;  for  he  had  risen  from  his  seat  and  seemed  to  be 
collecting  himself  to  dash  headlong  upon  his  rival,  when 
Mercedes,  smiling  and  graceful,  lifted  her  lovely  head, 
and  showed  her  clear  and  bright  eye.  At  this  Fernand 
recollected  her  threat  of  dying  if  Edmond  died,  and 
dropped  again  heavily  on  his  seat.  Danglars  looked  at 
the  two  men,  one  after  the  other,  the  one  brutalized  oy 
liquor,  the  other  overwhelmed  with  love. 

"  I  shall  extract  nothing  from  these  fools/'  he  muttered; 
"and  I  am  very  much  afraid  of  being  here  between  a 
drunkard  and  a  coward.  Yet  this  Catalan  has  eyes  that 
glisten  like  the  Spaniards',  Sicilians'  and  Calabrians',  who 
practice  revenge  so  well.  Unquestionably,  Edmond's  star 
is  in  the  ascendant,  and  he  will  marry  the  splendid  girl — 
he  will  be  captain,  too,  and  laugh  at  us  all,  unle~~  "  - 


26  THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRI8TO. 

sinister  smile  passed  over  Danglars'  lips — "  unless  I  mingle 
in  the  affair,"  he  added. 

"  Halloo  I"  continued  Caderousse,  half-rising,  and  with 
his  fist  on  the  table,  "  halloo,  Edmond!  do  you  see  your 
friends,  or  are  you  too  proud  to  speak  to  them?" 

"No,  my  dear  fellow!"  replied  Dant£s,  "I  am  not 
proud,  but  I  am  happy;  and  happiness  blinds,  I  think, 
more  than  pride." 

"Ah!  very  well,  that's  an  explanation!"  said  Caderousse. 
"Well,  good  day,  Mme.  Dantes!" 

Mercedes  courtesied  gravely,  and  said:  "  That  is  not  my 
name,  and  in  my  country  it  bodes  ill-fortune,  they  say,  to 
call  young  girls  by  the  name  of  their  betrothed  before  he 
becomes  their  husband.  Call  me,  then,  Mercedes,  if  you 


"We  must  excuse  our  worthy  neighbor,  Caderousse," 
said  Dante's,  "he  is  so  easily  mistaken." 

"  So,  then,  the  wedding  is  to  take  place  immediately,  M. 
Dant£s,"  said  Danglars,  bowing  to  the  young  couple. 

"As  soon  as  possible,  M.  Danglars;  to-day  all  pre- 
liminaries will  be  arranged  at  my  father's,  and  to-morrow, 
or  next  day  at  latest,  the  wedding  festival  here  at  La 
Keserve.  My  friends  will  be  there,  I  hope  ;  that  is  to  say, 
you  are  invited,  M.  Danglars,  and  you,  Caderousse." 

"And  Fernand,"  said  Caderousse  with  a  chuckle  ;  "  Fer- 
nand,  too,  is  invited  !" 

"  My  wife's  brother  is  my  brother,"  said  Edmond  ;  "  and 
we,  Mercedes  and  I,  should  be  very  sorry  if  he  were  absent 
at  such  a  time." 

Fernand  opened  his  mouth  to  reply,  but  his  voice  died 
on  his  lips,  and  he  could  not  utter  a  word. 

"  To-day  the  preliminaries,  to-morrow  or  next  day  the 
ceremony  ;  you  are  in  a  hurry,  captain  !" 

"  Danglars,"  said  Edmond,  smiling,  "  I  will  say  to  you 
as  Mercedes  said  just  now  to  Caderousse,  '  Do  not  give  me 
a  title  which  does  not  belong  to  me  ;'  that  may  bring  me 
bad  luck." 

"Your  pardon,"  replied  Danglars,  "I  merely  said  you 
seemed  in  a  hurry,  and  we  have  lots  of  time,  the  Pharaon 
cannot  be  under  weigh  again  in  less  than  three  months." 

"  We  are  always  in  a  hurry  to  be  happy,  M.  Danglars  ; 
for  when  we  have  suffered  a  long  time,  we  have  great 
difficulty  in  believing  in  good  fortune.  But  it  is  not 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO.  27 

selfishness  alone  that  makes  me  thus  in  haste ;  I  must  go 
to  Paris." 

"  To  Paris !  really  !  and  will  it  be  the  first  time  you 
have  ever  been  there,  Dante's?" 

"  Yes." 

"  Have  you  business  there  ?" 

"  Not  of  my  own ;  the  last  commission  of  poor  Capt. 
Leclere  ;  you  know  to  what  I  allude,  Danglars — it  is 
sacred.  Besides,  I  shall  only  take  the  time  to  go  and 
return." 

"  Yes,  yes,  I  understand,"  said  Danglars,  and  then  in  a 
low  tone,  he  added  :  "  To  Paris,  no  doubt  to  deliver  the 
letter  which  the  grand  marshal  gave  him.  Ah !  this 
letter  gives  me  an  idea — a  capital  idea  !  Ah  !  Dant£s,  my 
friend,  you  are  not  yet  registered  number  one  on  board  the 
good  ship  Pharaon,"  then  turning  toward  Edmond,  who 
was  walking  away,  "  Good  journey,"  he  cried. 

"  Thank  ye,"  said  Edmond  with  a  friendly  nod,  and  the 
two  lovers  continued  their  route,  calm  and  joyous. 


CHAPTER  IV. 

CONSPIRACY. 

DANGLARS  followed  Edmond  and  Mercedes  with  his 
eyes  until  the  two  lovers  disappeared  behind  one  of  the 
angles  of  Fort  St.  Nicolas,  then,  turning  round,  he  per- 
ceived Fernand,  who  had  fallen,  pale  and  trembling,  into 
his  chair,  while  Caderousse  stammered  out  the  words  of  a 
drinking  song. 

"  Well,  my  dear  sir,"  said  Danglars  to  Ferdinand,  "  here 
is  a  marriage  which  does  not  appear  to  make  everybody 

'  It  drives  me  to  despair,"  said  Fernand. 
'  Do  you,  then,  love  Merc6de"s?" 

*  I  adore  her  !" 

*  Have  you  loved  her  long?" 

*  Ever  since  I  have  known  her." 

'  And  you  sit  there,  tearing  your  hair,  instead  of  seeking 
to  remedy  your  condition ;  I  did  not  think  it  was  Urns 
your  nation  acted." 

"  What  would  you  have  me  do  ?"  said  Femand. 


28  THE  COUNT  Off  MONTE  GRI8TO. 

"How  do  I  know  ?  Is  it  my  affair?  I  am  not  in  love 
with  Mdlle.  Merc6de"s ;  but  for  you — seek,  and  you  shall 
find." 

"I  have  found  already." 

"  What?" 

"  I  would  stab  the  man,  but  the  woman  told  me  that  if 
any  misfortune  happened  to  her  betrothed  she  would  kill 
hers«if  " 

••Pooh  !  women  say  those  things,  but  never  do  them." 

"  You  do  not  know  Mercedes  ;  what  she  threatens  she 
will  do." 

"  Idiot !"  muttered  Danglars  ;  "whether  she  kill  herself 
or  not  what  matter,  provided  Dantes  is  not  captain?" 

"  Before  Mercedes  should  die,"  replied  Fernand,  with 
the  accents  of  unshaken  resolution,  "  I  would  die  my- 
self !" 

"  That's  what  I  call  love  !"  said  Caderousse  with  a  voice 
more  tipsy  than  ever.  "  That's  love,  or  I  don't  know  what 
love  is. 

"  Come,"  said  Danglars,  "you  appear  to  me  a  good  sort 
of  fellow,  and  hang  me  !  but  I  should  like  to  help  you, 
but — 

"Yes,"  said  Caderousse,  "but  how?" 

"My  dear  fellow,"  replied  Danglars,  "you  are  three 
parts  drunk  ;  finish  the  bottle,  and  you  will  be  completely 
so.  Drink,  then,  and  do  not  meddle  with  what  we  are 
discussing,  for  that  requires  all  one's  wit  and  cool  judg- 
ment." 

"  I — drunk  !"  said  Caderousse  ;  "  well,  that's  a  good 
one  !  I  could  drink  four  more  such  bottles  ;  they  are  no 
bigger  than  Eau-de-Cologne  flasks.  Pere  Pamphile,  more 
wine  !"  and  Caderousse  rattled  his  glass  upon  the  table. 

"  You  were  saying,  sir "  said  Fernand,  awaiting  with 

great  anxiety  the  end  of  this  interrupted  remark. 

"  What  was  I  saying?  I  forget.  This  drunken  Cade- 
rousse has  made  me  lose  the  thread  of  my  sentence." 

"  Drunk,  if  you  like  ;  so  much  the  worse  for  those  who 
fear  wine,  for  it  is  because  they  have  some  bad  thoughts 
which  they  are  afraid  the  liquor  will  extract  from  their 
hearts ;"  and  Caderousse  began  to  sing  the  two  last  lines 
of  a  song  very  popular  at  the  time — 

"  '  Tous  les  mechants  sont  beuveurs  d'eau  ; 
C'eat  bien  prouve  par  le  deluge.'  " 


THE  CO  UNT  0  F  MON  TE  GRISTO.  29 

"  You  said,  sir,  you  would  like  to  help  me,  but ' 

"Yes  ;  but  I  added,  to  help  you  it  would  be  sufficient 
that  Dant£s  did  not  marry  her  you  love  ;  and  the  marriage 
may  easily  be  thwarted,  methinks,  and  yet  Dantes  need  not 
die." 

"  Death  alone  can  separate  them,"  remarked  Fernand. 

"You  talk  like  a  noodle,  my  friend/'  said  Caderousse  ; 
"  and  here  is  Danglars,  who  is  a  wide-awake,  clever,  deep 
fellow,  who  will  prove  to  you  that  you  are  wrong.  Prove 
it,  Danglars.  I  have  answered  for  you.  Say  there  is  no 
need  why  Dante's  should  die  ;  it  would,  indeed,  be  a  pity 
he  should.  Dante's  is  a  good  fellow ;  I  like  Dante's  ! 
Dantes,  your  health." 

Fernand  rose  impatiently.  "  Let  him  run  on/'  said 
Danglars,  restraining  the  young  man  ;  "  drunk  as  he  is,  he 
is  not  much  out  in  what  he  says.  Absence  severs  as  well 
as  death,  and  if  the  walls  of  a  prison  were  between  Edmond 
and  Mercedes  they  would  be  as  effectually  separated  as  if  he 
lay  under  a  tombstone." 

"Yes;  only  people  get  out  of  prison,"  said  Caderousse, 
who,  with  what  sense  was  left  him,  listened  eagerly  to  the 
conversation,  "and  when  they  get  out,  and  their  names 
are  Edmond  Dante's,  they  revenge " 

"What  matters  that?"  muttered  Fernand. 

"And  why,  I  should  like  to  know,"  persisted  Caderousse, 
"should  they  put  Dant&s  in  prison?  He  has  neither 
robbed  nor  killed  nor  murdered." 

"Hold  your  tongue!"  said  Danglars. 

"I  won't  hold  my  tongue!"  replied  Caderousse;  "I  say 
I  want  to  know  why  they  should  put  Dantes  in  prison;  I 
like  Dantes;  Dantes,  your  health!"  and  he  swallowed 
another  glass  of  wine. 

Danglars  saw  in  the  muddled  look  of  the  tailor  the 
progress  of  his  intoxication,  and,  turning  toward  Fernand, 
said: 

"Well,  you  understand  there  is  no  need  to  kill  him." 

"  Certainly  not,  if,  as  you  said  just  now,  you  have  the 
means  of  having  Dantes  arrested.  Have  you  that 
means?" 

"  It  is  to  be  found  for  the  searching.  But  why  should  I 
meddle  in  the  matter?  It  is  no  affair  of  mine." 


his  arm; 


I  know  not  why  you  meddle,"  said  Fernand,  seizing 
irm;  "  but  this  I  know:  you  have  some  motive  of  per- 


30  THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO. 

sonal  hatred  against  Dantes,  for  he  who  himself  hates  is 
never  mistaken  in  the  sentiments  of  others." 

"I!  motives  of  hatred  against  Dantes?  None,  on  my 
word!  I  saw  you  were  unhappy,  and  your  unhappiness 
interested  me;  that's  all;  but  the  moment  you  believe  I 
act  for  my  own  account,  adieu,  my  dear  friend;  get  out  of 
the  affair  as  best  you  may,"  and  Danglars  rose  as  if  he 
meant  to  depart. 

"No,  no,"  said  Fernand,  restraining  him,  "stay!  It 
is  of  very  little  consequence  to  me  at  the  end  of  the  matter 
whether  you  have  any  angry  feeling  or  not  against  Dante's. 
I  hate  him!  I  confess  it  openly.  Do  you  find  the  means, 
I  will  execute  it,  provided  it  is  not  to  kill  the  man,  for 
Mercedes  has  declared  she  will  kill  herself  if  Dantes  is 
killed." 

Caderousse,  who  had  let  his  head  drop  on  the  table,  now 
raised  it,  and,  looking  at  Fernand  with  his  dull  and  fishy 
eyes,  he  said: 

"Kill  Dantes!  Who  talks  of  killing  Dantes?  I  won't 
have  him  killed — I  won't!  He's  my  friend,  and  this 
morning  offered  to  share  his  money  with  me,  as  I  shared 
mine  with  him.  I  won't  have  Dantes  killed — I  won't!" 

"And  who  has  said  a  word  about  killing  him,  muddle- 
head?"  replied  Danglars.  "We  were  merely  joking;  drink 
to  his  health,"  he  added,  filling  Caderousse's  glass,  "and 
do  not  interfere  with  us." 

"Yes,  yes,  Dante's'  good  health!"  said  Caderousse,  emp- 
tying his  glass,  "here's  to  his  health!  his  health!  hurrah!" 

"  But  the  means — the  means?"  said  Fernand. 

"Have  you  not  hit  upon  any?" 

"No;  you  undertook  to  do  so." 

"True,"  replied  Danglars;  "the  French  have  the 
superiority  over  the  Spaniards,  that  the  Spaniards  ruminate 
while  the  French  invent." 

"Do  you  invent,  then?"  said  Fernand,  impatiently. 

"Waiter,"  said  Danglars,  "pen,  ink  and  paper." 

"  Pen,  ink  and  paper,"  muttered  Fernand. 

"Yes;  I  am  a  supercargo;  pen,  ink  and  paper  are  my 
tools,  and  without  my  tools  I  am  fit  for  nothing." 

"Pen,  ink  and  paper,"  then  called  Fernand,  loudly. 

"All  you  require  is  a  table,"  said  the  waiter,  pointing  to 
the  writing  materials. 

"  Bring  them  here." 


THE  CO  UNT  OF  MONTE  CRI8TO.  31 

The  waiter  did  as  he  was  desired. 

"When  one  thinks,"  said  Caderousse,  letting  his  hand 
drop  on  the  paper,"  "there  is  here  the  wherewithal  to  kill 
a  man  more  sure  than  if  we  waited  at  the  corner  of  a  wood 
to  assassinate  him.  I  have  always  had  more  dread  of  a 
pen,  a  bottle  of  ink  and  a  sheet  of  paper  than  of  a  sword 
or  pistol." 

"  The  fellow  is  not  so  drunk  as  he  appears  to  be,"  said 
Danglars.  "  Give  him  some  more  wine,  Fernand." 

Fernand  filled  Caderousse's  glass,  who,  toper  as  he  was, 
lifted  his  hand  from  the  paper  and  seized  the  glass. 

The  Catalan  watched  him  until  Caderousse,  almost  over- 
come by  this  fresh  assault  on  his  senses,  rested,  or  rather 
allowed  his  glass  to  fall  upon  the  table. 

"Well?"  resumed  the  Catalan,  as  he  saw  the  final 
glimmer  of  Caderousse's  reason  vanishing  before  the  last 
glass  of  wine. 

"Well,  then,  I  should  say,  for  instance,"  resumed 
Danglars,  "  that  if  after  a  voyage  such  as  Dante's  has  just 
made,  and  in  which  he  touched  the  Isle  of  Elba,  some  one 
were  to  denounce  him  to  the  king's  procureur  as  a  Bona- 
partist  agent --  — 

"I  will  denounce  him!"  exclaimed  the  young  man, 
hastily. 

"Yes,  but  they  will  make  you  then  sign  your  declaration 
and  confront  you  with  him  you  have  denounced.  I  will 
supply  you  with  the  means  of  supporting  your  accusation, 
for  I  know  the  fact  well.  But  Dantes  cannot  remain 
forever  in  prison,  and  one  day  or  other  he  will  leave  it, 
and  the  day  when  he  comes  out  woe  betide  him  who  was 
the  cause  of  his  incarceration!" 

"Oh,  I  should  wish  nothing  better  than  that  he  would 
come  and  seek  a  quarrel  with  me." 

"Yes,  and  Merce'de's!  Mercedes,  who  will  detest  you  if 
you  have  only  the  misfortune  to  scratch  the  skin  of  her 
dearly  beloved"  Edmond." 

"True,"  said  Fernand. 

"  No,  no,"  continued  Danglars;  "if  we  resolve  on  such 
a  step  it  would  be  much  better  to  take,  as  I  now  do,  this 
pen,  dip  it  into  this  ink  and  write  with  the  left  hand 
(that  the  writing  may  not  be  recognized)  the  denunciation 
we  propose." 

And  Danglars,  uniting  practice  with  theory,  wrote  with 


32  THE  CO  UNT  OF  MONTE  CRT8TO. 

his  left  hand,  and  in  a  writing  reversed  from  his  usual 
style  and  totally  unlike  it,  the  following  lines,  which 
he  handed  to  Fernand,  and  which  Fernand  read  in  an 
undertone: 

"  MONSIEUB:  The  Procureur  du  Eoi  is  informed  by  a 
friend  of  the  throane  nd  religion  that  one  Edmond  Dantes, 
mate  of  the  ship  Pharaon,  arrived  this  morning  from 
Smyrna,  after  having  touched  at  Naples  and  Porto-Feirajo, 
has  been  intrusted  by  Murat  with  a  letter  for  the  usurper, 
and  by  the  usurper  with  a  letter  for  the  Bonapartist  com- 
mittee in  Paris.  Proof  of  this  crime  will  be  found  on 
arresting  him,  for  the  letter  will  be  found  upon  him,  or  at 
his  father's,  or  in  his  cabin  on  board  the  Pharaon." 

"Very  good/'  resumed  Danglars;  "now  your  revenge 
looks  like  common-sense,  for  in  no  way  can  it  revert  to 
yourself,  and  the  matter  will  thus  work  its  own  way;  there 
is  nothing  to  do  now  but  fold  the  letter  as  I  am  doing,  and 
write  upon  it,  'To.  M.  le  Procureur  Royal,'  and  that's  all 
settled." 

And  Danglars  wrote  the  address  as  he  spoke. 

"Yes,  and  that's  all  settled!"  exclaimed  Caderousse, 
who,  by  a  last  effort  of  intellect,  had  followed  the  reading 
of  the  letter  and  instinctively  comprehended  all  the  misery 
which  such  a  denunciation  must  entail.  "Yes,  and  that's 
all  settled;  only  it  will  be  an  infamous  shame,"  and  he 
stretched  out  his  hand  to  reach  the  letter. 

"Yes,"  said  Danglars,  taking  it  from  beyond  his  reach; 
"  and  as  what  I  say  and  do  is  merely  in  jest,  and  I,  among 
the  first  and  foremost,  should  be  sorry  if  anything  hap- 
pened to  Dante's — the  worthy  Dante's — look  here!"  And, 
taking  the  letter,  he  squeezed  it  up  in  his  hands  and  threw 
it  into  a  corner  of  the  arbor. 

"  All  right !"  said  Caderousse.  "  Dantes  is  my  friend, 
and  I  won't  have  him  ill-used." 

"And  who  thinks  of  using  him  ill  ?  Certainly  neither  I 
nor  Fernand  !"  said  Danglars,  rising  and  looking  at  the 
young  man,  who  still  remained  seated,  but  whose  eye  was 
fixed  on  the  denunciatory  sheet  of  paper  flung  into  the 
corner. 

"  In  this  case,"  replied  Caderousse,  "  let's  have  some 
more  wine.  I  wish  to  drink  the  health  of  Edmond  and 
the  lovely  Mercedes." 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO.  33 

"  You  have  had  too  much  already,  drunkard,"  said 
Danglars  ;  "  and  if  you  continue  you  will  be  compelled  to 
Bleep  here,  because  unable  to  stand  on  your  legs." 

"I?"  said  Caderousse,  rising  with  all  the  offended  dig- 
nity of  a  drunken  man,  "  I  can't  keep  on  my  legs  !  Why, 
I'll  bet  a  wager  I  go  up  into  the  belfry  of  the  Acoules,  and 
without  staggering,  too  !" 

"  Well  done  !"  said  Danglars,  "  I'll  take  your  bet ;  but 
to-morrow — to-day  it  is  time  to  return.  Give  me  your  arm 
and  let  us  go." 

-"Very  well,  let  us  go,"  said  Caderousse  ;  "  but  I  don't 
want  your  arm  at  all.  Come,  Fernand,  won't  you  return 
to  Marseilles  wiih  us?" 

"  No,"  said  Fernand  ;  "  I  shall  return  to  the  Catalans." 

"  You're  wrong.  Come  with  us  to  Marseilles — come 
along." 

"I  will  not." 

"  What  dp  you  mean?  you  will  not?  Well,  just  as  you 
like,  my  prince  ;  there's  liberty  for  all  the  world.  Come 
along,  Danglars,  and  let  the  young  gentleman  return  to 
the  Catalans  if  he  chooses." 

Danglars  took  advantage  of  Caderousse's  temper  at  the 
moment  to  take  him  off  toward  Marseilles  by  the  Porte 
St.  Victor,  staggering  as  he  went. 

When  they  had  advanced  about  twenty  yards,  Danglars 
looked  back  and  saw  Fernand  stoop,  pick  up  the  crumpled 
paper,  and,  putting  it  into  his  pocket,  then  rush  out  of  the 
arbor  toward  Pillon. 

"  Well,"  said  Caderousse,  "  why,  what  a  lie  he  told!  He 
said  he  was  going  to  the  Catalans,  and  he  is  going  to  the 
city.  Halloo,  Fernand  !" 

• '  Oh,  you  see  wrong,  "  said  Danglars  ;  "  he's  gone  right 
enough. 

"  Well,  said  Caderousse,  "  I  should  have  said  not — how 
treacherous  wine  is  !" 

"  Come,  come,"  said  Danglers  to  himself,  "  now  the 
thing  is  at  work  and  it  will  effect  its  purpose  unassisted." 


34  THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRI8TO. 

CHAPTER   V, 
THE   MARRIAGE-FEAST, 

THE  morning's  sun  rose  clear  and  resplendent,  gilding 
the  heavens,  and  even  the  foamy  waves  with  its  bright 
refulgent  beams. 

The  plenteous  feast  had  been  prepared  at  La  Reserve, 
with  whose  arbor  the  reader  is  already  familiar.  The 
apartment  destined  for  the  purpose  was  spacious  and 
lighted  by  a  number  of  windows,  over  each  of  which  was 
written  in  golden  letters  the  name  of  one  of  the  principal 
cities  of  France  ;  beneath  these  windows  a  wooden  balcony 
extended  the  entire  length  of  the  house.  And  although 
the  entertainment  was  fixed  for  12  o'clock  at  noon,  an 
hour  previous  to  that  time  the  balcony  was  filled  with 
impatient  and  expectant  guests,  consisting  of  the  favored 
part  of  the  crew  of  the  Pharaon,  and  other  personal  friends 
of  the  bridegroom,  the  whole  of  whom  had  arrayed  them- 
selves in  their  choicest  costumes,  in  order  to  do  greater 
honor  to  the  day. 

Various  rumors  were  afloat  to  the  effect  that  the  owners 
of  the  Pharaon  had  promised  to  attend  the  nuptial  feast ; 
but  ail  seemed  unanimous  in  doubting  that  an  act  of  such 
rare  and  exceeding  condescension  could  possibly  be  in- 
tended. 

Danglars,  however,  who  now  made  his  appearance,  ac- 
companied by  Caderousse,  effectually  confirmed  the  report, 
stating  that  he  had  recently  conversed  with  M.  Morrel,  who 
had  himself  assured  him  he  intended  joining  the  festive 
party  upon  the  occasion  of  their  second  officer's  marriage. 

Even  while  relating  this  aloud  an  enthusiastic  burst  of 
applause  from  the  crew  of  the  Pharaon  announced  the 
presence  of  M.  Morrel,  who  hailed  the  visit  of  the  ship- 
owner as  a  sure  indication  that  the  man  whose  wedding- 
feast  he  thus  delighted  to  honor  would  ere  long  be  first  in 
command  of  the  Pharaon  ;  and  as  Dantes  was  universally 
beloved  on  board  his  vessel,  the  sailors  put  no  restraint  on 
the  tumultuous  joy  at  finding  the  opinion  and  choice  of 
their  superiors  so  exactly  coincide  with  their  own. 

This  noisy  though  hearty  welcome  over,  Danglars  and 
Caderousse  were  dispatched  to  the  residence  of  the  bride- 


THE  CO  UNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO.  30 

groom  to  convey  to  him  the  intelligence  of  the  arrival  of 
the  important  personage  who  had  recently  joined  them, 
and  to  desire  he  would  hasten  to  receive  his  honorable 
guest. 

The  above-mentioned  individuals  started  off  upon  their 
errand  at  full  speed ;  but  ere  they  had  gone  many  steps 
they  perceived  a  group  advancing  toward  them,  composed 
of  the  betrothed  pair,  a  party  of  young  girls  in  attendance 
on  the  bride,  by  whose  side  walked  Dantes'  father ;  the 
whole  brought  up  by  Fernand,  whose  lips  wore  their  usual 
sinister  smile. 

Neither  Mercedes  nor  Edmond  observed  the  strange  ex- 
pression of  his  countenance  ;  basking  in  the  sunshine  of 
each  other's  love,  they  heeded  not  the  dark,  lowering  look 
that  scowled  on  their  innocent  felicity. 

Having  acquitted  themselves  of  their  errand,  and  ex- 
changed a  hearty  shake  of  the  hand  with  Edmond,  Dan- 
glars  and  Caderousse,  took  their  places  beside  Fernand  and 
old  Dantes — the  latter  of  whom  attracted  universal  notice. 
The  old  man  was  attired  in  a  suit  of  black,  trimmed  with 
steel  buttons,  beautifully  cut  and  polished.  His  thin  but 
still  powerful  legs  were  arrayed  in  a  pair  of  richly  em- 
broidered clocked  stockings,  evidently  of  English  manu- 
facture, while  from  his  three-cornered  hat  depended  a  long 
streaming  knot  of  white  and  blue  ribbons.  Thus  he  came 
along,  supporting  himself  on  a  curiously  carved  stick,  hie 
aged  countenance  lit  up  with  happiness,  while  beside  him 
crept  Caderousse,  whose  desire  to  partake  of  the  good 
things  provided  for  the  wedding-party  had  induced  him  to 
become  reconciled  to  the  Dantes,  father  and  son,  although 
there  still  lingered  in  his  mind  a  faint  and  imperfect  recol- 
lection of  the  events  of  the  preceding  night ;  just  as  the 
brain  retains  on  waking  the  dim  and  misty  outline  of  the 
dream  that  has  "murdered  sleep." 

As  Danglars  approached  the  disappointed  lover  he  cast 
on  him  a  look  of  deep  meaning,  while  Fernand,  as  lie 
slowly  paced  behind  the  happy  pair,  who  seemed,  in  their 
own  unmixed  content,  to  have  entirely  forgotten  that  such 
a  being  as  himself  existed,  was  pale  and  abstracted ;  oc- 
casionally, however,  a  deep  flush  would  overspread  his 
countenance,  and  a  nervous  contraction  distort  his  features, 
while,  with  an  agitated  and  restless  gaze,  he  would  glance 
in  the  direction  of  Marseilles,  like  one  who  either  antici- 
pated or  foresaw  some  great  and  important  event. 


36  THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO. 

Dantes  himself  was  simply,  though  becomingly,  clad  in 
the  dress  peculiar  to  the  merchant  service — a  costume 
somewhat  between  a  military  and  a  civil  garb  ;  and  with 
his  fine  countenance,  radiant  with  joy  and  happiness,  a 
more  perfect  specimen  of  manly  beauty  could  scarcely  be 
imagined. 

Lovely  as  the  Greeks  of  Cyprus  or  Chios,  Mercedes 
boasted  the  same  bright  flashing  eyes  of  jet,  and  ripe, 
round  coral  lips.  Once  more  practiced  in  the  arts  of  great 
cities  would  have  hid  her  blushes  beneath  a  veil,  or,  at 
least,  have  cast  down  her  thickly  fringed  lashes,  so  as  to 
have  concealed  the  liquid  luster  of  her  animated  eyes;  but, 
on  the  contrary,  the  delighted  girl  looked  around  her 
with  a  smile  that  seemed  to  invite  all  who  saw  her  to 
behold,  and  beholding,  to  rejoice  with  her  in  her  exceed- 
ing happiness. 

Immediately  the  bridal  cortege  came  in  sight  of  La  R6- 
serve  M.  Morrel  came  forth  to  meet  it,  followed  by  the 
soldiers  and  sailors  there  assembled,  to  whom  he  had  re- 
peated the  promise  already  given,  that  Dantes  should  be 
the  successor  to  the  late  Capt.  Leclere.  Edmond,  at  the 
approach  of  his  patron,  respectfully  placed  the  arm  of  his 
affianced  bride  within  that  of  M.  Morrel,  who,  forthwith 
conducting  her  up  the  flight  of  wooden  steps  leading  to  the 
chamber  in  which  the  feast  was  prepared,  was  gayly  fol- 
lowed by  the  guests,  beneath  whose  thronging  numbers  the 
slight  structure  creaked  and  groaned  as  though  alarmed  at 
the  unusual  pressure. 

"  Father,"  said  Mercedes,  stopping  when  she  had 
reached  the  center  of  the  table,  "  sit,  I  pray  you,  on  my 
right  hand;  on  my  left  I  will  place  him  who  has  ever  been 
a  brother  to  me,"  pointing,  with  a  soft  and  gentle  smile,  to 
Fernand;  but  her  words  and  look  seemed  to  inflict  the 
direst  torture  on  him,  for  his  lips  became  ghastly  pale,  and 
even  beneath  the  dark  hue  of  his  complexion  the  blood 
be  might  seen  retreating  as  though  some  sudden  pang  drove 
it  back  to  the  heart. 

During  this  time  Dantes,  at  the  opposite  side  of  the 
table,  had  been  occupied  in  similarly  placing  his  most 
honored  guests.  M.  Morrel  was  seated  at  his  right  hand, 
Danglars  at  his  left;  while,  at  a  sign  from  Edmond,  the 
rest  of  the  company  ranged  themselves  as  they  found  it 
most  agreeable. 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRI8TO.  37 

And  now  commenced  the  work  of  devastation  upon  the 
many  good  things  with  which  the  table  was  loaded. 
Sausages  of  Aries,  with  their  delicate  seasoning  and  piquant 
flavor,  lobsters  in  their  dazzling  red  cuirasses,  prawns  of 
large  size  and  brilliant  color,  the  echinus,  with  its  prickly 
outside  and  dainty  morsel  within;  the  clovis,  esteemed  by 
the  epicures  of  the  south  as  more  than  rivaling  the  exqui- 
site flavor  of  the  oyster.  All  these,  in  conjunction  with 
the  numerous  delicacies  cast  up  by  the  wash  of  the 
waters  on  the  sandy  beach,  and  styled  by  the  grateful 
fishermen  "  sea  fruits,"  served  to  furnish  forth  this  mar- 
riage-table. 

"A  pretty  silence,  truly!  "  said  the  old  father  of  the 
bridegroom,  as  he  carried  to  his  lips  a  glass  of  wine  of  the 
hue  and  brightness  of  the  topaz,  and  which  had  just  been 
placed  before  Mercedes  herself.  "  Now,  would  anybody 
think  that  this  room  contained  a  happy,  merry  party, 
who  desire  nothing  better  than  to  laugh  and  dance  the 
hours  away?" 

"Ah!"  sighed  Caderousse,  "a  man  cannot  always  feel 
happy  because  he  is  about  to  be  married." 

"  The  truth  is,"  replied  Dantes,  "  that  I  am  too  happy 
for  noisy  mirth;  if  that  is  what  you  meant  by  your  obser- 
vation, my  worthy  friend,  you  are  right;  joy  takes  a  strange 
effect  at  times — it  seems  to  oppress  us  almost  the  same  as 
Borrow." 

Danglars  looked  toward  Fernand,  whose  excitable  nature 
received  and  betrayed  each  fresh  impression. 

"Why,  what  ails  you?"  asked  he  of  Edmond.  "Do 
you  fear  any  approaching  evil?  I  should  say  that  you  were 
the  happiest  man  alive  at  this  instant. " 

"And  that  is  the  very  thing  that  alarms  me,"  returned 
Dantes.  "  Man  does  not  appear  to  me  to  be  intended  to 
enjoy  felicity  so  unmixed;  happiness  is  like  the  enchanted 
palaces  we  read  of  in  our  childhood,  where  fierce,  fiery 
dragons  defend  the  entrance  and  approach;  and  monsters 
of  all  shapes  and  kinds,  requiring  to  be  overcome  ere  victory 
is  ours.  I  own  that  I  am  lost  in  wonder  to  find  myself 
promoted  to  an  honor  of  which  I  feel  myself  unworthy — 
that  of  being  the  husband  of  Mercedes." 

"Nay,  nay!"  cried  Caderousse,  smiling;  "you  have  not 
attained  that  honor  yet.  Mercedes  is  not  vet  your  wife. 
Just  assume  the  tone  and  manner  of  a  husband,  and  see 


38  THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO. 

how  she  will  remind  you  that  your  hour  is  not  yet 
come!" 

The  bride  blushed,  and  seemed  half -inclined  to  be  angry; 
while  Fernand,  restless  and  uneasy,  seemed  to  start  at  every 
fresh  sound,  occasionally  applying  his  handkerchief  to  his 
brow  to  wipe  away  the  large  drops  of  perspiration  that 
gathered  again,  almost  as  soon  as  they  were  removed. 

"  Well,  never  mind  that,  neighbor  Caderousse;  it  is  not 
worth  while  to  contradict  me  for  such  a  trifle  as  that. 
'Tis  true  that  Mercedes  is  not  actually  my  wife;  but," 
added  he,  drawing  out  his  watch,  "in  an  hour  and  a  half 
from  this  she  will  be  as  fast  and  firm  as  holy  church  can 
make  her." 

A  general  exclamation  of  surprise  ran  round  the  table, 
with  the  exception  of  the  elder  Dant£s,  whose  laugh  dis- 
played the  still  perfect  beauty  of  his  large,  white  teeth. 
Mercedes  looked  pleased  and  gratified,  while  Fernand 
grasped  the  handle  of  his  knife  with  a  convulsive  clutch. 

"  In  an  hour?"  inquired  Danglars,  turning  pale.  "How 
is  that,  my  friend?" 

"  Why,  thus  it  is,"  replied  Dant£s.  "  Thanks  to  the 
influence  of  M.  Morrel,  to  whom,  next  to  my  father,  I  owe 
every  blessing  I  enjoy,  every  difficulty  has  been  removed. 
We  have  purchased  permission  to  waive  the  usual  delay; 
and  at  10:30  o'clock  the  Mayor  of  Marseilles  will  be  wait- 
ing for  us  at  the  H6tel  de  Ville.  Now,  as  1:15  has  already 
struck,  I  do  not  consider  I  have  asserted  too  much  in 
saying  that  in  another  hour  and  thirty  minutes  Mercedes 
will  have  become  Mme.  Dantes." 

Fernand  closed  his  eyes,  a  burning  sensation  passed  across 
his  brow,  and  he  was  compelled  to  support  himself  by  the 
table  to  prevent  his  falling  from  his  chair;  but,  in  spite  of 
all  his  efforts,  he  could  not  refrain  from  uttering  a  deep 
groan,  which,  however,  was  lost  amid  the  noisy  felicitations 
of  the  company. 

"  Upon  my  word,"  cried  the  old  man,  "you  make  short 
work  of  this  kind  of  affairs.  Arrived  here  only  yesterday 
morning,  and  married  to-day  at  3  o'clock!  Commend  me 
to  a  sailor  for  going  the  quick  way  to  work!" 

"  But,"  asked  Danglars,  in  a  timid  tone,  "  how  did  you 
manage  about  the  other  formalities — the  contract — the 
settlement?" 

"  Oh,  bless  you!"  answered  Dantes,  laughingly,   "our 


THE  CO  UNT  OF  MONTE  CRI8TO.  89 

papers  were  soon  drawn  up.  Mercedes  has  no  fortune;  I 
have  none  to  settle  for  her.  So,  you  see,  our  papers  were 
quickly  written  out,  and  certainly  do  not  come  very  expen- 
sive." 

This  joke  elicited  a  fresh  burst  of  applause. 

"So  that  what  we  presumed  to  be  merely  the  betrothal 
feast  turns  out  to  be  the  actual  wedding-dinner!"  said 
Danglars. 

"No,  no!"  answered  Dantes;  "  don't  imagine  I  am  going 
to  put  you  off  in  that  shabby  manner.  To-morrow  morn- 
ing I  start  for  Paris.  Five  days  to  go,  and  the  same  to 
return,  with  one  day  to  discharge  the  commission  intrusted 
to  me,  is  all  the  time  I  shall  be  absent.  I  shall  be  back 
here  by  the  12th  of  March,  and  the  next  day  I  give  my 
real  marriage  feast." 

This  prospect  of  fresh  activity  redoubled  the  hilarity  of 
the  guests  to  such  a  degree  that  the  elder  Dantes,  who,  at 
the  commencement  of  the  repast,  had  commented  upon 
the  silence  that  prevailed,  now  found  it  difficult,  amid  the 
general  din  of  voices,  to  obtain  a  moment's  tranquillity  in 
which  to  drink  to  the  health  and  prosperity  of  the  bride 
and  bridegroom. 

Dantes,  perceiving  the  affectionate  eagerness  of  his 
father,  responded  by  a  look  of  grateful  pleasure;  while 
Mercedes,  whose  eyes  had  been  constantly  consulting  the 
pendule  which  decked  the  chamber,  made  an  expressive 
gesture  to  Edmond. 

Around  the  festive  board  reigned  that  mirthful  freedom 
from  all  restraint  which  is  usually  found  at  the  termination 
of  social  meetings  among  those,  at  least,  whose  inferior 
station  in  the  world  gives  them  a  happy  dispensation  from 
the  frigid  rules  of  etiquette;  and  so  it  was  with  the  party 
now  assembled.  Such  as  at  the  commencement  of  the 
repast  had  not  been  able  to  seat  themselves  according  to 
their  inclination,  rose  unceremoniously  and  exchanged 
their  place  for  the  more  immediate  proximity  of  some 
preferred  individual,  male  or  female,  as  the  case  might  be. 
All  spoke  at  the  same  time,  and  yet  none  heeded  a  reply, 
but  appeared  as  though  merely  addressing  their  own 
thoughts. 

The  paleness  of  Fernand  appeared  to  have  communicated 
itself  to  Danglars.  As  for  Fernand  himself,  he  seemed 
as  though  undergoing  the  tortures  of  the  damned;  unable 


40  THE  CO  UNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO 

to  rest,  he  was  among  the  first  to  quit  the  table,  and,  as 
though  seeking  to  avoid  the  hilarious  mirth  that  rose  in 
guch  deafening  sounds,  he  continued,  in  utter  silence,  to 
pace  the  farther  end  of  the  salon. 

Caderousse  approached  him  just  as  Danglars,  whom  Fer- 
nand  seemed -most  anxious  to  avoid,  had  joined  him  in  a 
corner  of  the  room. 

"  Upon  my  word,"  said  Caderousse,  from  whose  mind 
the  friendly  treatment  of  Dantes,  united  with  the  effect  of 
the  excellent  wine  he  had  partaken  of,  had  effaced  every 
feeling  of  envy  or  jealousy  at  Dantes'  good  fortune,  "  upon 
my  word,  Dantes  is  a  downright  good  fellow,  and  when  I 
see  him  sitting  there  beside  his  pretty  wife  that  is  soon  so  to 
be,  I  cannot  help  thinking  it  would  have  been  a  great  pity 
to  have  served  him  that  trick  you  were  planning  yes- 
terday." 

"  Oh,  there  was  no  harm  meant,"  answered  Danglars. 
''At  first  I  certainly  did  feel  somewhat  uneasy  as  regarded 
what  Fern  and  might  be  tempted  to  do;  but  when  I  saw 
how  completely  he  had  mastered  his  feelings,  even  so  far 
as  to  become  one  of  his  rival's  bridemen,  I  knew  there  was 
no  further  cause  for  apprehension." 

Caderousse  looked  full  at  Fernand — he  was  ghastly  pale. 

"  Certainly,"  continued  Danglars,  "  the  sacrifice  was 
no  trifling  one,  when  the  beauty  of.  the  bride  is  concerned. 
Upon  my  soul,  that  future  captain  of  mine  is  a  lucky  dog! 
Gad!  I  only  wish  he  would  let  me  take  his  place." 

"Shall  we  not  set  forth?"  asked  the  sweet,  silvery  voice 
of  Mercedes;  "  2  o'clock  has  just  struck,  and  you  know 
we  are  expected  at  the  Hotel  de  Ville  in  a  quarter  of  an 
hour." 

"  To  be  sure — to  be  sure!"  cried  Dantes,  eagerly  quitting 
the  table;  "let  us  go  directly." 

His  words  were  re-echoed  by  the  whole  party,  who  rose 
with  a  simultaneous  cheer,  and  commenced  forming  them- 
selves into  procession. 

At  this  moment  Danglars,  who  had  been  incessantly 
observing  every  change  in  Fernand's  look  and  manner, 
perceived  him  stagger  and  fall  back,  with  an  almost  con- 
vulsive spasm,  against  a  seat  placed  near  one  of  the  open 
windows.  At  the  same  instant  the  ear  caught  a  sort  of 
indistinct  sound  on  the  stairs,  followed  by  the  measured 
tread  of  soldiery,  with  the  clanking  of  swords  and  military 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CH1STO.  41 

accouterments;  then  came  a  hum  and  buzz  as  of  many 
voices,  so  as  to  deaden  even  the  noisy  mirth  of  the  bridal 
party,  among  whom  a  vague  feeling  of  curiosity  and  appre- 
hension quelled  every  disposition  to  talk,  and  almost 
instantaneously  the  most  death-like  stillness  prevailed. 

Nearer  and  nearer  came  those  sounds  of  terror.  Three 
distinct  knocks,  as  though  from  the  hilt  of  a  sword,  against 
the  door,  increased  the  fears  of  the  before  gay  party.  Each 
looked  inquiringly  in  the  countenance  of  his  neighbor, 
while  all  wished  themselves  quietly  and  safely  at  home. 

"  I  demand  admittance,"  said  a  loud  voice  outside  the 
room,  "in  the  name  of  the  law!" 

As  no  attempt  was  made  to  prevent  it,  the  door  was 
opened  and  a  magistrate,  wearing  his  official  scarf,  pre- 
sented himself,  followed  by  four  soldiers  and  a  corporal. 
Uneasiness  now  yielded  to  the  most  extreme  dread  on  the 
part  of  those  present. 

"  May  I  venture  to  inquire  the  reason  of  this  unexpected 
visit?"  said  M.  Morrel,  addressing  the  magistrate,  whom 
he  evidently  knew.  "There  is  doubtless  some  mistake, 
easily  explained." 

"If  it  be  so,"  replied  the  magistrate,  "rely  upon  every 
reparation  being  made;  meanwhile,  I  am  the  bearer  of  an 
order  of  arrest,  and  although  I  most  reluctantly  perform 
the  task  assigned  me,  it  must,  nevertheless,  be  fulfilled. 
Who,  among  the  persons  here  assembled,  answers  to  the 
name  of  Edmund  Dantes?" 

Every  eye  was  turned  toward  the  individual  so  described, 
who,  spite  of  the  agitation  he  could  not  but  feel,  advanced 
with  dignity,  and  said,  in  a  firm  voice: 

"  I  am  he;  what  is  your  pleasure  with  me?" 

"Edmond  Dantes,  replied  the  magistrate,  "I  arrest 
you  in  the  name  of  the  law." 

"Me!"  repeated  Edmond,  slightly  changing  color,  "and 
wherefore,  I  pray?" 

"I  cannot  inform  you,  but  you  will  be  duly  acquainted 
with  the  reasons  that  have  rendered  such  a  step  necessary 
at  your  first  examination." 

M.  Morrel  felt  that  further  resistance  or  remonstrance 
was  useless.  He  saw  before  him  an  office*  delegated  to 
enforce  the  law,  and  perfectly  well  knew  that  it  would  be 
as  unavailing  to  seek  pity  from  a  magistrate  decked  with 
his  ofiieial  soarf  as  to  address  a  petition  to  some  cold 


42  THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO. 

marble  effigy.  Old  Dant£s,  however,  saw  not  all  this. 
His  paternal  heart  could  not  contemplate  the  idea  of  such 
&n  outrage  as  consigned  his  beloved  child  to  prison  amid 
the  joys  of  his  wedding-feast.  Bushing  forward,  therefore, 
he  threw  himself  at  the  magistrate's  feet,  and  prayed  and 
supplicated  in  terms  so  moving  that  even  the  officer  was 
touched ;  and,  although  firm  in  his  duty,  he  kindly 
said: 

"  My  worthy  friend,  let  me  beg  of  you  to  calm  your 
apprehensions.  Your  son  has  probably  neglected  some 
prescribed  form  or  attention  in  registering  his  cargo,  and 
it  is  more  than  probable  he  will  be  set  at  liberty  directly 
he  has  given  the  information  required,  whether  touching 
the  health  of  Ms  crew  or  the  value  of  his  freight." 

"What  is  the  meaning  of  all  this?"  inquired  Caderousse, 
frowningly,  of  Danglars,  who  had  assumed  an  air  of  utter 
surprise. 

"How  can  I  tell  you?"  replied  he.  "I  am,  like  your- 
self, utterly  bewildered  at  all  that  is  going  on,  not  a  word 
of  which  do  I  understand." 

Caderousse  then  looked  around  for  Fernand,  but  he  had 
disappeared. 

The  scene  of  the  previous  night  now  came  back  to  his 
mind  with  startling  accuracy.  The  painful  catastrophe  he 
had  just  witnessed  appeared  effectually  to  have  rent  away 
the  veil  which  the  intoxication  of  the  evening  before  had 
raised  between  himself  and  his  memory. 

"  So  !  so !"  said  he,  in  a  hoarse  and  choking  voice,  to 
Danglars,  "  this,  then,  I  suppose,  is  a  part  of  the  trick  you 
were  concerting  yesterday?  All  I  can  say  is,  that  if  it  be 
so,  'tis  an  ill  turn,  and  well  deserves  to  bring  double  evil 
on  those  who  have  projected  it." 

"Nonsense!"  returned  Danglars,  "I  tell  you  again  I 
have  nothing  whatever  to  do  with  it ;  besides,  you  know 
very  well  that  I  tore  the  paper  to  pieces." 

"  No,  you  did  not  f"  answered  Caderousse,  "  you 
merely  threw  it  by — I  saw  it  lying  in  a  corner." 

"  Hold  your  tongue,  you  fool  ! — what  should  you  know 
about  it? — why,  you  were  drunk  !" 

"  Where  is  Fernand?"  inquired  Caderousse. 

"How  do  I  know?"  replied  Dauglars ;  "gone,  as  every 
prudent  man  ought  to  do,  to  look  after  his  own  affairs, 
most  likely.  Never  mind  where  he  is,  let  you  and  I  go  and 


TffB  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRI8TO.  43 

see  what  is  to  be  done  for  our  poor  friends  in  this  their 
affliction." 

During  this  conversation  Dant^s,  after  having  ex- 
changed a  cheerful  shake  of  the  hand  with  all  his  sympa- 
thizing friends,  had  surrendered  himself  to  the  officer  sent 
to  arrest  him,  merely  saying:  "Make  yourselves  quite 
easy,  my  good  fellows,  there  is  some  little  mistake  to  clear 
up,  that's  all,  depend  upon  it  !  and  very  likely  I  may  not 
have  to  go  so  far  as  the  prison  to  effect  that." 

"  Oh,  to  be  sure  !"  responded  Danglars,  who  had  now 
approached  the  group,  "  nothing  more  than  a  mistake,  I 
feel  quite  certain." 

Dantes  descended  the  staircase,  preceded  by  the  magis- 
trate and  followed  by  the  soldiers.  A  carriage  awaited 
him  at  the  door ;  he  got  in,  followed  by  two  soldiers  and 
the  magistrate,  and  the  vehicle  drove  off  toward  Marseilles. 

"Adieu!  adieu!  dearest  Edmond !"  criep  MercSdds, 
stretching  out  her  arms  to  him  from  the  balcony. 

The  prisoner,  whose  ready  ear  caught  the  despairing  ac- 
cents of  his  betrothed,  felt  as  though  the  chill  hand  of 
death  pressed  on  his  heart,  as  leaning  from  the  coach  he 
tried  to  reply  in  cheerful  tones:  "Good-by,  my  sweet 
Mercedes  !  we  shall  soon  meet  again  !"  The  rapid  prog- 
ress of  the  vehicle,  which  disappeared  round  one  of  the 
turnings  of  Fort  St.  Nicolas,  prevented  his  adding  more. 

"Wait  for  me  here,  all  of  you!"  cried  M.  Morrel ;  "I 
will  take  the  first  conveyance  I  find,  and  hurry  to  Mar- 
seilles, whence  I  will  bring  you  word  how  all  is  going 
on." 

"  That's  right !"  exclaimed  a  multitude  of  voices ;  "  go, 
and  return  as  quickly  as  you  can  !" 

This  second  departure  was  followed  by  a  long  and  fear- 
ful state  of  terrified  silence  on  the  part  of  those  who  were 
left  behind.  The  old  father  and  Mercedes  remained  for 
some  time  apart,  each  absorbed  in  their  separate  griefs ; 
but  at  length  the  two  poor  victims  of  the  same  blow  raised 
their  eyes,  and  with  a  simultaneous  burst  of  feeling  rushed 
into  each  other's  arms. 

Meanwhile  Fernand  made  his  reappearance  ;  poured  out 
for  himself  a  glass  of  water  with  a  trembling  hand  ;  then, 
hastily  swallowing  it,  went  to  sit  down  on  the  first  vacant 
chair  he  perceived,  and  this  was,  by  mere  chance,  placed 
next  to  the  seat  on  which  poor  Mercedes  had  fallen,  half- 


44  THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRI8TO. 

fainting,  when  released  from  the  warm  and  affectionate 
embrace  of  old  Dantds.  Instinctively  Fernand  drew  back 
his  chair. 

"He  is  the  cause  of  all  this  misery — I  am  quite  sure  of 
it,"  whispered  Caderousse,  who  had  never  taken  his  eyes 
off  Fernand,  to  Dan  glare. 

"I  really  do  not  think  so,"  answered  the  other  ;  "he  is 
too  stupid  to  imagine  such  a  scheme.  I  only  hope  the 
mischief  will  fall  upon  the  head  of  whoever  wrought  it." 

"You  don't  mention  those  who  aided  and  abetted  the 
cruel  deed,  any  more  than  those  who  advised  it,"  said 
Caderousse. 

"  Surely,"  answered  Danglars,  "  one  cannot  be  expected 
to  become  responsible  for  all  the  idle  words  one  may  have 
been  obliged  to  listen  to  in  the  course  of  our  lives." 

Meantime  the  subject  of  the  arrest  was  being  canvassed 
in  every  different  form. 

"What  think  you,  Danglars,"  said  one  of  the  party, 
turning  toward  him,  "  of  the  late  unfortunate  event  ?" 

"  Why,  upon  my  word,  I  know  not  what  to  say,"  re- 
plied he.  "I  think,  however,  that  it  is  just  possible 
Dantes  may  have  been  detected  with  some  trifling  article 
on  board  ship  considered  here  as  contraband." 

"  But  how  could  he  have  done  so  without  your  knowl- 
edge, Danglars,  who  was  the  ship's  supercargo?" 

"  Why,  as  for  that,  I  could  only  know  what  I  was  told 
respecting  the  merchandise  with  which  the  vessel  was 
laden.  I  know  she  was  loaded  with  cotton,  and  that  she 
took  in  her  freight  at  Alexandria  from  the  magazine  of  M. 
Pastret,  and  at  Smyrna  from  M.  Pascal's ;  that  is  all  I  was 
obliged  to  know,  and  I  beg  I  may  not  be  asked  for  any 
further  particulars." 

"  Now  I  recollect !"  said  the  afflicted  old  father;  "my 
poor  boy  told  me  yesterday  he  had  got  a  small  case  of 
coffee  and  another  of  tobacco  for  me  !" 

"  There,  you  see !"  exclaimed  Danglars.  "  Now  the 
mischief  is  out ;  depend  upon  it,  the  custom-house  people 
went  rummaging  about  the  ship  in  OL;  absence,  and  dis- 
covered poor  Dante's'  hidden  treasur 

Mercedes,  however,  paid  no  heed  to  this  explanation  of 
her  lover's  arrest.  Her  grief,  which  she  had  hitherto  tried 
to  restrain,  now  burst  out  in  a  violent  fit  of  hysterical 
sobbing. 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CR1STO.  45 

"Come,  come, "said  the  old  man,  "be  comforted,  my 
poor  child  ;  there  is  still  hope  '. 

"  Hope  \"  repeated  Danglars. 

"  Hope  \"  faintly  murmured  Fernand ;  but  the  word 
seemed  to  die  away  on  his  pale,  agitated  lips,  and  a  con- 
vulsive spasm  passed  over  his  countenance. 

"  Good  news  !  good  news  !"  shouted  forth  one  of  the 
party  stationed  in  the  balcony  on  the  look-out.  "  Here 
comes  M.  Morrel  back.  No  doubt,  now,  we  shall  hear  that 
our  friend  is  released  I" 

Mercedes  and  the  old  man  rushed  to  meet  the  person 
from  whom  they  hoped  so  much ;  but  the  first  glance  at 
the  pale,  desponding  countenance  of  M.  Morrel  prepared 
them  for  evil  tidings. 

"  What  news?"  exclaimed  a  general  burst  of  voices. 

"  Alas !  my  friends,"  replied  M.  Morrel,  with  a  mournful 
shake  of  his  head,  "  the  thing  has  assumed  a  more  serious 
aspect  than  I  expected." 

"  Oh  !  indeed — indeed,  sir,  he  is  innocent  !"  sobbed 
"forth  Mercedes. 

"That  I  believe  !"  answered  M.  Morrel ;  "but  still  he  is 
charged •" 

"  With  what?"  inquired  the  elder  Dantes. 

"  With  being  an  agent  of  the   Bonapartist  faction !" 

Many  of  my  readers  may  be  able  to  recollect  how  formidable 
such  an  accusation  became  in  the  period  at  which  our  story 
is  dated. 

A  despairing  cry  escaped  the  pale  lips  of  Mercedes,  while 
the  heart-stricken  father  fell  listlessly  into  a  chair,  kindly 
placed  for  him  by  one  of  the  pitying  guests. 

"Ah,  Danglars  !"  whispered  Caderousse,  "  you  have  de- 
ceived me — the  trick  you  spoke  of  last  night  has  been  played 
off,  I  see;  but  I  cannot  suffer  a  poor  old  man  or  an  inno- 
cent girl  to  die  of  grief  through  your  fault.  I  am  deter- 
mined to  tell  them  all  about  it." 

"Be  silent,  you  simpleton!"  cried  Danglars,  grasping 
him  by  the  arm,  "  or  I  will  not  answer  even  for  your  own 
safety.  Who  can  tell  whether  Dantes  be  innocent  or 
guilty?  The  vessel  did  touch  at  Elba,  where  he  quitted  it 
and  passed  the  whole  day  in  the  island.  Now,  should  any 
letters  or  documents  of  a  compromising  character  be  found 
upon  him,  will  it  not  be  taken  for  granted  that  all  who 
uphold  him  are  his  accomplices?" 


DUMAS — VOL.  I. — 3 


46  THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRI8TO. 

With  the  rapid  instinct  of  selfishness,  Caderousse  readily 
perceived  the  solidity  of  this  mode  of  reasoning;  he  gazed, 
doubtfully,  wistfully  on  Danglars,  and  then  insensibly  con- 
tinued to  retreat  from  the  dangerous  proximity  in  which 
he  found  himself. 

"  Suppose  we  wait  awhile,  and  see  what  comes  of  it!" 
said  he,  casting  a  bewildered  look  on  his  companion. 

"  To  be  sure!"  answered  Danglars.  ' '  Let  us  wait,  by  all 
means.  If  he  be  innocent,  of  course  he  will  Tie  set  at 
liberty;  if  guilty,  why,  it  is  no  use  involving  ourselves  in 
his  conspiracy. 

"  Then  let  us  go  hence.  I  cannot  stay  to  endure  the 
sight  of  that  old  man's  distress." 

"  With  all  my  heart,"  replied  Danglars,  but  too  pleased 
to  find  a  partner  in  his  retreat.  "  Let  us  take  ourselves 
out  of  the  way,  and  leave  every  one  else  to  do  the  same 
thing,  if  they  please." 

After  their  departure,  Fernand,  who  had  now  again  be- 
come the  only  friend  and  protector  poor  Mercedes  could  find 
in  this  trying  hour,  led  the  weeping  girl  back  to  her  home, 
which  she  had  quitted  with  such  different  hopes  and  feel- 
ings in  the  morning,  while  some  friends  of  Dant^s  con- 
ducted the  poor  heart-broken  parent  to  his  childless  and 
dreary  abode. 

The  rumor  of  Edniond's  arrest  as  a  Bonapartist  agent 
was  not  slow  in  circulating  throughout  the  city. 

"Could  you  ever  have  credited  such  a  thing,  my  dear 
Danglars?"  asked  M.  Morrel,  as,  on  his  return  to  the  port 
for  the  purpose  of  gleaning  fresh  tidings  of  Dantes,  he 
overtook  his  supercargo  and  Caderousse.  "Could  you  have 
believed  such  a  thing  possible?" 

"  Why,  you  know  I  told  you,"  replied  Danglars,  "  that 
I  considered  the  circumstance  of  his  having  anchored  in  the 
Isle  of  Elba  as  very  suspicious." 

"And  did  you  mention  these  suspicions  to  any  person 
besides  myself?" 

"Certainly  not!"  returned  Danglars.  Then  added  in  a 
low  whisper.  "You  understand  that,  on  account  of  your 
uncle,  M.  Polican  Morrel,  who  served  under  the  other 
government,  and  who  does  not  altogether  conceal  what  he 
thinks  on  the  subject,  you  are  strongly  suspected  of  re- 
gretting the  abdication  of  Napoleon.  I  should  have  feared 
to  injure  both  Edmond  and  yourself  had  I  divulged  my 


THE  COUNT  OP  MONTE  CRT8TO.  47 

own  apprehensions  to  a  soul.  I  am  too  well  aware  that, 
though  a  subordinate,  like  myself,  is  bound  to  acquaint 
the  ship-owner  with  everything  that  occurs,  there  are 
many  things  he  ought  most  carefully  to  conceal  from  all  else. " 

"''Tis  well,  Dauglars— 'tis  well!"  replied  M.  Morrel. 
"You  are  a  worthy  fellow;  and  I  had  already  thought  of 
your  interests  in  the  event  of  poor  Edmond  having  become 
captain  of  the  Pharaon." 

"Is  it  possible  you  were  so  kind  ?" 

"Yes,  indeed;  I  had  previously  inquired  of  Dantes 
what  was  his  opinion  of  you,  and  if  he  should  have  any 
reluctance  to  continue  you  in  your  post,  for  somehow  I 
have  perceived  a  sort  of  coolness  between  you  two  that  led 
me  to  believe  that  he  would  rather  have  another  in  your 
place  as  supercargo." 

"  And  what  was  his  reply?" 

"That  he  certainly  did  think  he  had  given  you  offense 
in  an  affair  which  he  merely  referred  to  without  entering 
into  particulars,  but  that  whoever  possessed  the  good  opin- 
nion  and  confidence  of  the  ship's  owners  would  have  his 
preference  also." 

"  The  hypocrite!  "  murmured  Danglars,  between  his 
teeth. 

"Poor  Dantes!"  said  Caderousse.  "No  one  can  deny 
his  being  a  noble-hearted  young  fellow!" 

"But  in  the  midst  of  all  our  trouble,"  continued  M. 
Morrel,  "  we  must  not  forget  that  the  Pharaon  has  at 
present  no  captain." 

"Oh!"  replied  Danglars,  "since  we  cannot  leave  this 
port  for  the  next  three  months,  let  us  hope  that  ere  the 
expiration  of  that  period  Dant£s  will  be  set  at  liberty." 

"  Of  that  I  entertain  no  doubt;  but  in  the  meantime 
what  are  we  to  do?" 

"  I  am  entirely  at  your  service,  M.  Morrel,"  answered 
Danglars.  "  You  know  that  I  am  as  capable  of  managing 
a  ship  as  the  most  experienced  captain  in  the  service;  and 
it  will  be  so  far  advantageous  to  you  to  accept  my  services 
that  upon  Edmond's  release  from  prison  no  further  change 
will  be  requisite  on  board  the  Pharaon  than  for  Dante's  and 
myself  each  to  resume  our  respective  posts." 

"  Thanks!  thanks!  my  good  friend,  for  your  excellent 
idea  and  acceptable  proposition — that  will  smooth  all  diffi- 
culties. I  fully  authorize  you  at  once  to  assume  the  com- 


48  THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO. 

mand  of  the  Pharaon,  and  look  carefully  to  the  unloading 
of  her  freight.  Private  misfortunes  must  never  induce  us 
to  neglect  public  affairs. " 

"  Depend  upon  my  zeal  and  attention,  M.  Morrel;  but 
when  do  you  think  it  likely  we  may  be  permitted  to  visit 
our  poor  friend  in  his  prison  ?" 

"  I  will  let  you  know  that  directly  I  have  seen  M.  de 
Villefort,  whom  I  shall  endeavor  to  interest  in  Edmond's 
favor.  I  am  aware  he  is  a  furious  royalist;  but,  in  spite  of 
that  and  of  his  being  the  king's  procureur,  he  is  a  man 
like  ourselves,  and  I  fancy  not  a  bad  sort  of  one!" 

"  Perhaps  not,"  replied  Danglars;  "but  he  is  universally 
spoken  of  as  extremely  ambitious,  and  ambition  is  a  sore 
hardener  of  the  heart!" 

"  Well,  well!"  returned  M.  Morrel,  "  we  shall  see!  But 
now  hasten  on  board;  I  will  join  you  there  ere  long."  So 
saying,  the  worthy  ship-owner  quitted  the  two  allies  and 
proceeded  in  the  direction  of  the  Palais  de  Justice. 

"You  see,"  said  Danglars,  addressing  Caderousse,  "the 
turn  things  have  taken.  Do  you  still  feel  any  desire  to 
stand  up  in  his  defense?" 

"  Not  the  slightest,  but  yet  it  seems  to  me  a  shocking 
thing  a  mere  joke  should  lead  to  such  frightful  conse- 
quences." 

"But  who  perpetrated  that  joke,  let  me  ask?  neither 
you  nor  myself,  but  Fernand;  you  know  very  well  that  I 
threw  the  paper  into  a  corner  of  the  room — indeed,  I 
fancied  I  had  destroyed  it." 

"Oh,  no!"  replied  Caderousse,  "that  I  can  answer  for, 
you  did  not.  I  only  wish  I  could  see  it  now  as  plainly  as 
I  saw  it  lying  all  crushed  and  crumpled  in  a  corner  of  the 
arbor." 

"  Well,  then,  if  you  did,  depend  upon  it,  Fernand 
picked  it  up,  and  either  copied  it  or  caused  it  to  be  copied; 
perhaps,  even,  he  did  not  take  the  trouble  of  re-copying  it. 
And  now  I  think  of  it,  by  heavens!  he  has  sent  the  letter 
itself !  Fortunately,  for  me,  the  handwriting  was 
disguised." 

"  Then  you  were  aware  of  DantSs  being  engaged  in  a 
conspiracy?" 

"  Not  I.  As  I  before  said,  I  thought  the  whole  thing 
was  a  joke,  nothing  more.  It  seems,  however,  that  I  have 
unconsciously  stumbled  upon  the  truth." 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRI8TO.  49 

"Still,"  argued  Caderousse,  "I  would  give  a  great  deal 
if  nothing  of  the  kind  had  happened;  or,  at  least,  that  I 
had  had  no  hand  in  it!  You  will  see,  Danglars,  that  it 
will  turn  out  an  unlucky  job  for  both  of  us." 

"Nonsense!  If  any  harm  comes  of  it,  it  should  fall  on 
the  guilty  person;  and  that,  you  know,  is  Fernand.  How 
can  we  be  implicated  in  any  way?  All  we  have  got  to  do 
is  to  keep  our  own  counsel  and  remain  perfectly  quiet,  not 
breathing  a  word  to  any  living  soul;  and  you  will  see  that 
the  storm  will  pass  away  without  in  the  least  affecting  us." 

"Amen!"  responded  Caderousse,  waving  his  hand  in 
token  of  adieu  to  Danglars  and  bending  his  steps  toward 
the  Alles  de  Meillan,  moving  his  head  to  and  fro,  and 
muttering  as  he  went,  after  the  manner  of  one  whose  mind 
was  overcharged  with  one  absorbing  idea. 

"So  far,  then,"  said  Danglars,  mentally,  "all  has  gone 
as  I  would  have  it.  I  am,  temporarily,  commander  of  the 
Pharaon,  with  the  certainty  of  being  permanently  so  if 
that  fool  of  a  Caderousse  can  be  persuaded  to  hold  his 
tongue.  My  only  fear  is  the  chance  of  Dantes  being 
released.  But,  bah!  he  is  in  the  hands  of  justice,  and, 
added  he,  with  a  smile,  "she  will  take  her  own." 

So  saying,  he  leaped  into  a  boat,  desiring  to  be  rowed 
on  board  the  Pharaon,  where  M.  Morrel  had  appointed  to 
meet  him. 


CHAPTER  VI. 

THE   DEPUTY   PROCUREUR   DU   ROI. 

IN  ONE  of  the  large  aristocratical  mansions  situated  in 
the  Rue  du  Grand  Cours,  opposite  the  fountain  of  Medusa, 
a  second  marriage-feast  was  being  celebrated  almost  at  the 
same  hour  with  the  ill-fated  nuptial  repast  given  by 
Dantes.  In  this  case,  however,  although  the  occasion  of 
the  entertainment  was  similar,  the  company  assembled 
formed  a  striking  difference.  Instead  of  a  rude  mixture 
of  sailors,  soldiers  and  those  belonging  to  the  humblest 
grades  of  life,  the  present  reunion  was  composed  of  the 
very  flower  and  elite  of  Marseilles  society.  Magistrates 
who  had  resigned  their  office  during  the  usurpers  reign; 
officers  who,  scorning  to  fight  under  his  banners,  had 
offered  their  services  to  foreign  powers,  with  younger 


50  THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO. 

members  of  the  family,  brought  up  to  hate  and  execrate 
the  man  whom  five  years  of  exile  would  have  converted 
into  a  martyr  and  fifteen  of  restoration,  elevated  to  the 
rank  of  a  demi-god. 

The  guests  were  still  at  table,  and  the  heated  and 
energetic  conversation  that  prevailed  betrayed  the  violent 
and  vindictive  passions  that  then  agitated  each  dweller  of 
the  south,  where,  unhappily,  religious  strife  had  long 
given  increased  bitterness  to  the  violence  of  party  feeling. 

The  emperor,  now  king  of  the  petty  Isle  of  Elba,  after 
having  held  sovereign  sway  over  one-half  of  the  world, 
counting  us,  his  subjects,  a  small  population  of  twenty 
millions — after  having  been  accustomed  to  hear  the  "  Vive 
Napoleons"  of  at  least  six  times  that  number  of  human 
beings,  uttered  in  nearly  every  language  of  the  globe — was 
looked  upon  among  the  haute  societe  of  Marseilles  as  a 
ruined  man,  separated  forever  from  any  fresh  connection 
with  France  or  claim  to  her  throne. 

The  magistrates  freely  discussed  their  political  views; 
the  military  part  of  the  company  talked  unreservedly  of 
Moscow  and  Leipsic,  while  the  females  indulged  in  open 
comments  upon  the  divorce  of  the  Empress  Josephine. 
All  seemed  to  evince  that  in  this  focus  of  royalism  it  was 
not  over  the  downfall  of  one  man  they  rejoiced,  but  in  the 
bright  and  cheering  prospect  of  a  revivified  political  exist- 
ence for  themselves. 

An  old  man,  decorated  with  the  cross  of  St.  Louis,  now 
rose  and  proposed  the  health  of  King  Louis  XVIII.  This 
aged  individual  was  the  Marquis  de  Saint-Meran.  This 
toast,  recalling  at  once  the  patient  exile  of  Hartwell  and 
the  peace-loving  king  of  France,  excited  universal  en- 
thusiasm; glasses  were  elevated  in  the  air  a  V  Anglais,  and 
the  ladies,  snatching  their  bouquets  from  their  fair  bosoms, 
strewed  the  table  with  their  floral  treasures.  In  a  word, 
an  almost  poetical  fervor  prevailed. 

"Ah!"  said  the  Marquise  de  Saint-Meran,  a  woman  with 
a  stern,  forbidding  eye,  though  still  noble  and  elegant 
looking,  despite  her  having  reached  her  50th  year.  "Ah! 
these  revolutionists,  who  have  driven  us  from  those  very 
possessions  they  afterward  purchased  for  a  mere  trifle 
during  the  reign  of  terror,  would  be  compelled  to  own, 
were  they  here,  that  all  true  devotion  was  on  our  side,  since 
we  #ere  content  to  follow  the  fortunes  of  a  falling  monarch, 


TEE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO.  51 

while  they,  on  the  contrary,  made  their  fortune  by  wor- 
shiping the  rising  sun.  Yes,  yes,  they  could  not  help 
admitting  that  the  king  for  whom  we  sacrificed  rank, 
wealth  and  station  was  truly  our  *  Louis,  the  well-beloved/ 
while  their  wretched  usurper  has  been,  and  ever  will  be, 
to  them  their  evil  genius,  their  'Napoleon,  the  accursed.' 
Am  I  not  right,  Villefort?" 

"  I  beg  your  pardon,  madame.  I  really  must  pray  yon 
to  excuse  me,  but — in  truth — I  was  not  attending  to  the 
conversation. " 

"Marquise,  marquise  I"  interposed  the  same  elderly  per- 
sonage who  had  proposed  the  toast,  "  let  the  young  people 
alone.  Let  me  tell  you,  on  one's  wedding  day  there 
are  more  agreeable  subjects  of  conversation  than  dry 
politics." 

"  Never  mind,  dearest  mother,"  said  a  young  and  lovely 
girl,  with  a  profusion  of  light-brown  hair  and  eyes  tha' 
seemed  to  float  in  liquid  crystal,  "  'tis  all  my  fault  for 
seizing  upon  M.  de  Villefort,  so  as  to  prevent  his  listening 
to  what  you  said.  But  there — now  take  him — he  is  your 
own  for  as  long  as  you  like.  M.  Villefort,  I  beg  to  remind 
you  my  mother  speaks  to  you." 

"If  Mme.  la  Marquise  will  deign  to  repeat  the  words  I 
but  imperfectly  caught,  I  shall  be  delighted  to  answer," 
said  M.  de  Villefort* 

"  Never  mind,  Kenee,"  replied  the  marquise,  with  such 
a  look  of  tenderness  as  all  were  astonished  to  see  her  harsh, 
dry  features  capable  of  expressing;  for,  however  all  other 
feelings  may  be  withered  in  a  woman's  nature,  there  is 
always  one  bright,  smiling  spot  in  the  maternal  breast, 
and  that  is  where  a  dearly-beloved  child  is  concerned;  "I 
forgive  you.  What  I  was  saying,  Villefort,  was  that  the 
Bonapartists  had  neither  our  sincerity,  enthusiasm  nor 
devotion." 

"  They  had,  however,  what  supplied  the  place  of  those 
fine  qualities,"  replied  the  young  man,  "and  that  was 
fanaticism.  Napoleon  is  the  Mahomet  of  the  west,  and 
is  worshiped  by  his  commonplace  but  ambitious  followers 
not  only  as  a  leader  and  law-giver,  but  also  as  the  personifi- 
cation of  equality." 

"He!"  cried  the  marquise,  "Napoleon  the  type  of 
equality!  For  mercy's  sake,  then,  what  would  you  call 
Robespierre?  Come,  come,  do  not  strip  the  latter  of  his 


52  THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRI8TO. 

just  rights  to  bestow  them  on  one  who  has  usurped  enough, 
methinks." 

"Nay,  madame;  I  would  place  each  of  these  heroes  on 
his  right  pedestal — that  of  Eobespierre  to  be  built  where 
his  scaffold  was  erected;  that  of  Napoleon  on  the  column 
of  the  Place  Venddme.  The  only  difference  consists  in  the 
opposite  character  of  the  equality  supported  by  these  two 
men  ;  the  one  advocates  the  equality  that  elevates,  the 
other  professes  the  equality  that  depresses  ;  the  one  brings 
a  king  within  reach  of  the  guillotine,  the  other  elevates  the 
people  to  a  level  with  the  throne.  Observe/'  said  Ville- 
fort, smiling,  "I  do  not  mean  to  deny  that  both  the  indi- 
viduals we  have  been  referring  to  were  revolutionary 
scoundrels,  and  that  the  9th  Thermidor  and  the  4th  of 
April  were  lucky  days  for  France,  worthy  of  being  grate- 
fully remembered  by  every  friend  to  monarchy  and  civil 
order  ;  and  that  explains  how  it  comes  to  pass  that,  fallen, 
as  I  trust  he  is,  forever,  Napoleon  has  still  preserved  a 
train  of  parasitical  satellites.  Still,  marquise,  it  has  been 
so  with  other  usurpers  :  Cromwell,  for  instance,  who  was 
not  half  so  bad  as  Napoleon,  had  his  partisans  and  advo- 
cates/' 

"  Do  you  know,  Villefort,  that  you  are  talking  in  a  most 
dreadfully  revolutionary  strain  ?  But  I  excuse  it ;  it  is 
impossible  to  expect  the  son  of  a  Girondin  to  be  free  from 
a  small  spice  of  the  old  leaven." 

A  deep  crimson  suffused  the  countenance  of  Villefort. 

"  'Tis  true,  madame,"  answered  he,  "that  my  father 
was  a  Girondin,.  but  he  was  not  among  the  number  of  those 
who  voted  for  the  king's  death ;  he  was  an  equal  sufferer 
with  yourself  during  the  reign  of  terror,  and  had  well- 
nigh  lost  his  head  on  the  same  scaffold  as  your  own  father." 

"  True,"  replied  the  marquise,  without  wincing  in  the 
slightest  degree  at  the  tragical  remembrance  thus  called 
up  ;  "  but  bear  in  mind,  if  you  please,  that  our  respective 
parents  underwent  persecution  and  proscription  from  dia- 
metrically opposite  principles  ;  in  proof  of  which  I  may 
remark,  that  while  my  family  remained  among  the  stanch- 
est  adherents  of  the  exiled  princes,  your  father  lost  no 
time  in  joining  the  new  government  ;  and  that  after  the 
Citizen  Noirtier  had  become  a  Girondin,  the  Count  Noirtier 
appeared  as  a  senator  and  statesman." 

"Dear  mother,"  interposed  Renee,  "you  know  very  well 


THE  CO UNT  OF  MONTE  CRI8TO.  53 

it  was  agreed  that  all  these  disagreeable  reminiscences 
should  forever  be  laid  aside." 

"  Suffer  me,  also,  madame,  to  add  my  earnest  request 
that  you  will  kindly  allow  the  veil  of  oblivion  to  cover  and 
conceal  the  past.  What  avails  retrospection  and  recrimina- 
tion touching  circumstances  wholly  past  recall?  For  my 
own  part,  I  have  laid  aside  even  the  name  of  my  father, 
and  altogether  disown  his  political  principles.  He  was — 
nay,  probably  may  still  be — a  Bonapartist,  and  is  called 
Noirtier ;  I,  on  the  contrary,  am  a  stanch  royalist,  and 
style  myself  de  Villefort.  Let  what  may  remain  of  revo- 
lutionary sap  exhaust  itself  and  die  away  with  the  old 
trunk,  and  condescend  only  to  regard  the  young  shoot 
which  has  started  up  at  a  distance  from  the  parent  tree, 
without  having  the  power,  any  more  than  the  wish,  to 
separate  entirely  from  the  stock  from  which  it  sprung." 

"  Bravo,  Villefort !"  cried  the  marquis ;  "  excellently 
well  said  !  Come,  now,  I  have  hopes  of  obtaining  what  I 
have  been  for  years  endeavoring  to  persuade  the  marquise 
to  promise,  namely,  a  perfect  amnesty  and  forgetfulness  of 
the  past. 

"With  all  my  heart/'  replied  the  marquise;  "  let  the  past 
be  forever  forgotten  !  I  promise  you  it  affords  me  as  little 
pleasure  to  revive  it  as  it  does  you.  All  I  ask  is  that 
V  illefort  will  be  firm  and  inflexible  for  the  future  in  mark- 
ing his  political  principles.  Remember  also,  Villefort,  that 
we  have  pledged  ourselves  to  his  majesty  for  your  fealty 
and  strict  loyalty,  and  that  at  our  recommendation  the 
king  consented  to  forget  the  past,  as  I  do"  (and  here  she 
extended  to  him  her  hand) — "  as  I  now  do  at  your  entreaty. 
But  bear  in  mind,  that  should  there  fall  in  your  way  any 
one  guilty  of  conspiring  against  the  government  you  will 
be  so  much  the  more  bound  to  visit  the  offense  with  rigor- 
ous punishment,  as  it  is  known  you  belong  to  a  suspected 
family." 

"Alas  !  madame,"  returned  Villefort,  "  my  profession, 
as  well  as  the  times  in  which  we  live,  compel  me  to  be 
severe.  I  have  already  successfully  conducted  several 
public  prosecutions  and  brought  the  offenders  to  merited 
punishment.  But  we  have  not  done  with  the  thing  yet." 

"  Do  you,  indeed,  think  so?"  inquired  the  marquise. 

"  I  am,  at  least,  fearful  of  it.  Napoleon,  in  the  Island 
of  Elba,  is  too  near  France,  and  his  proximity  keeps  up  the 


54  THE  CO  UNT  OF  MONTE  CRI8TO. 

hopes  of  his  partisans.  Marseilles  is  filled  with  half-pay 
officers,  who  are  daily,  under  one  frivolous  pretext  or  other, 
getting  up  quarrels" with  the  royalists;  from  hence  arise 
continual  and  fatal  duels  among  the  higher  classes  of  per- 
sons, and  assassinations  in  the  lower." 

"  You  have  heard,  perhaps,"  said  the  Count  de  Salvieux, 
one  of  M.  de  Saint- Meran's  oldest  friends  and  chamberlain 
to  the  Count  d'Artois,  "that  the  holy  alliance  purpose 
removing  him  from  thence?" 

"Ah  !  they  were  talking  about  it  when  we  left  Paris," 
said  M.  de  Saint-Meran ;  "  and  where  is  it  decided  to 
transfer  him?" 

"  To  St.  Helena  !" 

"  For  heaven's  sake,  where  is  that?"  asked  the  mar- 
quise. 

"An  island  situated  on  the  other  side  of  the  equator,  at 
least  two  thousand  leagues  from  hence,"  replied  the  count. 

"  So  much  the  better  !  As  Villefort  observes,  it  is  a 
great  act  of  folly  to  have  left  such  a  man  between  Corsica, 
where  he  was  born,  Naples,  of  which  his  brother-in-law  is 
king,  and  Italy,  the  sovereignty  of  which  he  coveted  for 
his  son." 

"  Well,"  said  the  marquise  "  it  seems  probable  that,  by 
the  aid  of  the  holy  alliance,  we  shall  be  rid  of  Napoleon  ; 
and  we  must  trust  to  the  vigilance  of  M.  de  Villefort  to 
purify  Marseilles  of  his  partisans.  The  king  is  either  a 
king  or  no  king ;  if  he  be  acknowledged  as  sovereign  of 
France,  he  should  be  upheld  in  peace  and  tranquillity  ;  and 
this  can  best  be  effected  by  employing  the  most  inflexible 
agents  to  put  down  every  attempt  at  conspiracy — 'tis  the 
best  and  surest  means  of  preventing  mischief." 

"Unfortunately,  madame,"  answered  Villefort,  "the 
strong  arm  of  the  law  is  not  called  upon  to  interfere  until 
the  evil  has  taken  place." 

"  Then  all  he  has  got  to  do  is  to  endeavor  to  repair  it." 

"  Nay,  madame,  the  law  is  frequently  powerless  to  effect 
this ;  all  it  can  do  is  to  avenge  the  wrong  done." 

"  Oh  !  M.  de  Villefort,"  cried  a  beautiful  young  creature, 
daughter  to  Count  Salvieux,  and  the  cherished  friend  of 
Mdlle.  de  Saint-Meran,  "do  try  and  get  up  some  famous 
trial  while  we  are  at  Marseilles.  I  never  was  in  a  law- 


court  ;  I  am  told  it  is  so  very  amusing  !" 
"Amusing,  certainly,"  replied  the  y< 


young  man,  "mas- 


THE  CO  UNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO.  55 

much  as,  instead  of  shedding  tears,  as  at  the  fictitious  tale 
of  woe  produced  at  a  theatre,  you  behold  in  a  law-court  a 
case  of  real  and  genuine  distress — a  drama  of  life.  The 
prisoner  whom  you  there  see  pale,  agitated  and  alarmed, 
instead  of — as  is  the  case  when  the  curtain  falls  on  a 
tragedy — going  home  to  sup  peacefully  with  his  family, 
and  then  retiring  to  rest,  that  he  may  recommence  his 
mimic  woes  on  the  morrow,  is  removed  from  your  sight 
merely  to  be  reconducted  to  his  prison  and  delivered  up  to 
the  executioner.  I  leave  you  to  judge  how  far  your  nerves 
are  calculated  to  bear  you  through  such  a  scene.  Of  this, 
however,  be  assured,  that  should  any  favorable  opportunity 
present  itself,  I  will  not  fail  to  offer  you  the  choice  of  being 
present  at  it. 

"For  shame,  M.  de  Villefort!"  said  Renee,  becoming 
quite  pale;  "don't  you  see  how  you  are  frightening  usr* 
and  yet  you  laugh." 

"  Why,  I  stand  almost  in  the  light  of  one  engaged  in  a 
duel.  I  have  already  recorded  sentence  of  death,  five  or 
six  times,  against  the  movers  of  political  conspiracies,  and 
who  can  say  how  many  daggers  may  be  ready  sharpened 
and  only  waiting  a  favorable  opportunity  to  be  buried  in 
my  heart?" 

"Gracious  heavens!  M.  de  Villefort,"  said  Renee,  be- 
coming more  and  more  terrified;  "you  surely  are  not  in 
earnest." 

"Indeed  I  am,"  replied  the  young  magistrate,  with  a 
smile ;  "  and  in  the  interesting  trial  that  young  lady  is 
anxious  to  witness  the  case  would  only  be  still  more  aggra- 
vated. Suppose,  for  instance,  the  prisoner,  as  is  more  than 
probable,  to  have  served  under  Napoleon — well,  can  you 
expect,  for  an  instant,  that  one  accustomed,  at  the  word  of 
his  commander,  to  rush  fearlessly  on  the  very  bayonets  of  his 
foe,  will  scruple  more  to  drive  a  stiletto  into  the  heart  of 
one  he  knows  to  be  his  personal  enemy  than  to  slaughter 
his  fellow-creatures,  merely  because  bidden  to  do  so  by  one 
he  is  bound  to  obey?  Besides,  one  requires  the  excitement 
of  being  hateful  in  the  eyes  of  the  accused  in  order  to  lash 
one's  self  into  a  state  of  sufficient  vehemence  and  power. 
I  would  not  choose  to  see  the  man  against  whom  I  pleaded 
smile,  as  though  in  mockery  of  my  words.  No!  my  pride 
is  to  see  the  accused  pale,  agitated,  and  as  though  beaten 
out  of  all  composure  by  the  tire  of  my  eloquence. 


56  THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO. 

"  Bravo!"  cried  one  of  the  guests;  "  that  is  what  I  call 
talking  to  some  purpose." 

"  Just  the  person  we  require  at  a  time  like  the  present," 
said  a  second. 

"  What  splendid  business  that  last  cause  of  yours  was, 
my  dear  Villefort!"  remarked  a  third;  "  I  mean  the  trial  of 
the  man  for  murdering  his  father.  Upon  my  word,  you 
killed  him  ere  the  executioner  had  laid  his  hand  upon  him." 

"Oh!  as  for  parricides,  and  such  dreadful  people  as  that," 
interposed  Reuee,  "it  matter  very  little  what  is  done  to 
them;  but  as  regards  poor,  unfortunate  creatures  whose 
only  crime  consists  in  having  mixed  themselves  up  in 
political  intrigues " 

"  Why,  that  is  the  very  worse  offense  they  could  possi- 
bly commit;  for,  don't  you  see,  Renee,  the  king  is  the 
father  of  the  people,  and  he  who  shall  plot  or  contrive 
aught  against  the  life  and  safety  of  the  parent  of 
32,000,000  of  souls  is  a  parricide  upon  a  fearfully  great 
scale?" 

"  I  don't  know  anything  about  that,"  replied  Renee; 
"  but,  M.  de  Villefort,  you  have  promised  me — have  you 
not — always  to  show  mercy  to  those  I  plead  for?" 

"  Make  yourself  quite  easy  on  that  point,"  answered 
Villefort,  with  one  of  his  sweetest  smiles;  "you  and  I  will 
always  consult  upon  our  verdicts." 

"  My  love,"  said  the  marquise,  "  attend  to  doves,  your 
lap-dogs  and  embroidery,  but  do  not  meddle  with  what 
you  understand  not.  Nowadays  the  military  profession  has 
rest,  and  its  brave  sons  repose  under  their  well-earned 
laurels.  Now  is  the  time  for  those  of  the  long  robe,  like 
M.  de  Villefort,  to  achieve  a  notoriety;  seek  not,  there- 
fore, to  cross  the  brilliant  career  your  betrothed  husband 
may  otherwise  pursue." 

"  Well,"  said  Renee,  "I  cannot  help  regretting  you  had 
not  chosen  some  other  profession  than  your  own — a  physi- 
cian, for  instance.  Do  you  know  I  always  felt  a  shudder 
at  the  idea  of  even  a  destroying  angel?" 

"Dear,  good  Renee!"  whispered  Villefort,  as  he  gazed 
with  unutterable  tenderness  on  the  lovely  speaker. 

"  Let  us  hcpe,  my  child,"  cried  the  marquis,  "  that  M. 
de  Villefort  may  prove  the  moral  and  political  physician 
of  this  province  ;  if  so,  he  will  have  achieved  a  noble 
work." 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRI8TO.  57 

"And  one  which  will  go  far  to  efface  the  recollection  of 
his  father's  conduct,"  added  the  incorrigible  marquise." 

"  Madame,"  replied  Villefort,  with  a  mournful  smile,  "I 
have  already  had  the  honor  to  observe  that  my  father  has — 
at  least  I  hope  so — abjured  his  past  errors,  and  that  he  is, 
at  the  present  moment,  a  firm  and  zealous  friend  to  religion 
and  order — a  better  royalist,  possibly,  than  his  son;  for  he 
has  to  atone  for  past  dereliction,  while  I  have  no  other 
impulse  than  warm,  decided  preference  and  conviction." 

Having  made  this  well-turned  speech,  Villefort  looked 
carefully  round  to  mark  the  effect  of  his  oratory,  much  as 
he  would  have  done  had  he  been  addressing  the  bench  in 
open  court. 

"  Do  you  know,  my  dear  Villefort,"  cried  the  Count  de 
Salvieux,  "that  is  as  nearly  as  possible  what  I  myself  said 
the  other  day  at  the  Tuileries,  when  questioned  by  his 
majesty's  principal  chamberlain  touching  the  singularity  of 
an  alliance  between  the  son  of  a  Girondon  and  the  daugh- 
ter of  an  officer  of  the  Duke  de  Conde;  and  I  assure  you 
he  seemed  fully  to  comprehend  that  this  mode  of  recon- 
ciling political  differences  was  based  upon  sound  and  excel- 
lent principles.  Then  the  king,  who,  without  our  suspect- 
ing it,  had  overheard  our  conversation,  interrupted  us  by 
saying:  '  Villefort ' — observe  that  the  king  did  not  pro- 
nounce the  word  Noirtier,  but,  on  the  contrary,  placed  con- 
siderable emphasis  on  that  of  Villefort — '  Villefort/  said 
his  majesty,  '  is  a  young  man  of  great  judgment  and  dis- 
cretion, who  will  be  sure  to  make  a  figure  in  his  profession; 
I  like  him  much,  and  it  gave  me  great  pleasure  to  hear 
that  he  was  about  to  become  the  son-in-law  of  M.  le  Marquis 
and  M.me.  la  Marquise  de  Saint-Meran.  I  should  myself 
have  recommended  the  match  had  not  the  noble  marquis 
anticipated  my  wishes  by  requesting  my  consent  to  it/  " 

"  Is  it  possible  the  king  could  have  condescended  so  far 
as  to  express  himself  so  favorably  of  me?"  asked  the 
enraptured  Villefort. 

"  I  give  you  his  very  words;  and  if  the  marquis  chooses 
to  be  candid  he  will  confess  that  they  perfectly  agree  with 
what  his  majesty  said  to  him,  when  he  went  six  mouths 
ago  to  consult  him  upon  the  subject  of  your  espousing  his 
daughter." 

"Certainly,"  answered  the  marquis;  'you  state  but  the 
truth." 


58  THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  (JRT8TO. 

"  How  much  do  I  owe  this  gracious  prince !  What  is 
there  I  would  not  do  to  evince  my  earnest  gratitude!" 

"  That  is  right,"  cried  the  marquise.  "I  love  to  see  you 
thus.  Now,  then,  were  a  conspirator  to  fall  into  your 
hands  he  would  be  most  welcome." 

"  For  my  part,  dear  mother,"  interposed  Renee,  "  I  trust 
your  wishes  will  not  prosper,  and  that  Providence  will 
only  permit  petty  offenders,  poor  debtors  and  miserable ' 
cheats  to  fall  into  M.  de  Villefort's  hands;  then  I  shall  be 
contented." 

"Just  the  same  as  though  you  prayed  that  a  physician 
might  only  be  called  upon  to  prescribe  for  headaches, 
measles  and  the  stings  of  wasps,  or  any  other  slight  affec- 
tion of  the  epidermis.  If  you  wish  to  see  me  the  king's 
procureur,  you  must  desire  for  me  some  of  those  violent 
and  dangerous  diseases  from  the  cure  of  which  so  much 
honor  redounds  to  the  physician." 

At  this  moment,  and  as  though  the  utterance  of  Ville- 
fort's  wish  had  sufficed  to  effect  its  accomplishment,  a 
servant  entered  the  room  and  whispered  a  few  words  in  his 
ear.  Villef ort  immediately  rose  from  table  and  quitted  the 
room  upon  the  plea  of  urgent  business;  he  soon,  however, 
returned,  his  whole  face  beaming  with  delight.  Renee 
regarded  him  with  fond  affection;  and  certainly  his  hand- 
some features,  lit  up  as  they  then  were  with  more  than 
usual  fire  and  animation,  seemed  formed  to  excite  the 
innocent  admiration  with  which  she  gazed  on  her  graceful 
and  intelligent  lover. 

"  You  were  wishing  just  now,"  said  Villefort,  address- 
ing her,  "that  I  were  a  doctor  instead  of  a  lawyer.  Well, 
I  at  least  resemble  the  disciples  of  Esculapius  in  one 
thing — that  of  not  being  able  to  call  a  day  my  own,  not 
even  that  of  my  betrothal." 

"  And,  wherefore,  were  you  called  away  just  now?" 
asked  Mdlle.  de  Saint-Meran,  with  an  air  of  deep 
interest. 

"  For  a  very  serious  affair,  which  bids  well  to  afford  our 
executioner  here  some  work." 

"  How  dreadful!"  exclaimed  Renee;  her  cheeks,  that 
were  before  glowing  with  emotion,  becoming  pale  as 
marble. 

"  Is  it  possible?  "  burst  simultaneously  from  all  who 
were  near  enough  to  the  magistrate  to  hear  his  words. 


THE  00  UNT  OF  MONTE  CRI8TO.  59 

"  Why,  if  my  information  prove  correct,  a  sort  of  Bona 
parte  conspiracy  has  just  been  discovered." 

"  Can  I  believe  my  ears?"  cried  the  marquise. 

"  I  will  read  you  the  letter  containing  the  accusation, 
at  least,"  said  Villefort: 

"  '  The  procureur  du  roi  is  informed  by  a  friend  to  the 
throne  and  the  religious  institutions  of  his  country,  that 
an  individual,  named  Edmond  Dant£s,  second  in  command 
on  board  the  Pharaon,  this  day  arrived  from  Smyrna,  after 
having  touched  at  Naples  and  Porto-Ferrajo,  has  been  the 
bearer  of  a  letter  from  Murat  to  the  usurper,  and  again 
taken  charge  of  another  letter  from  the  usurper  to  the 
Bonapartist  club  in  Paris.  Ample  corroboration  of  this 
statement  may  be  obtained  by  arresting  the  above-men- 
tioned Edmond  Dant£s,  who  either  carries  the  letter  for 
Paris  about  with  him,  or  has  it  at  his  father's  abode. 
Should  it  not  be  found  in  the  possession  of  father  or  son, 
then  it  will  assuredly  be  discovered  in  the  cabin  belonging 
to  the  said  Dantes  on  board  the  Pharaon/  " 

"  But,"  said  RenSe,  "  this  letter,  which,  after  all,  is  but 
an  anonymous  scrawl,  is  not  even  addressed  to  you,  but  to 
the  procureur  du  roi." 

"  True  ;  but  that  gentleman  being  absent,  his  secretary, 
by  his  orders,  opened  his  letters  ;  thinking  this  one  of  im- 
portance, he  sent  for  me,  but  not  finding  me,  took  upon 
himself  to  give  the  necessary  orders  for  arresting  the  ac- 
cused party." 

"  Then  the  guilty  person  is  absolutely  in  custody?"  said 
the  marquise. 

"  Nay,  dear  mother,  say  the  accused  person.  You 
know  we  cannot  yet  pronounce  him  guilty." 

"  He  is  in  safe  custody,"  answered  Villefort;  "and  rely 
upon  it,  if  the  letter  alluded  to  is  found,  he  will  not  be 
likely  to  be  trusted  abroad  again,  unless  he  goes  forth 
under  the  especial  protection  of  the  headsman." 

"  And  where  is  the  unfortunate  being  ?"  asked 
Renee. 

"  He  is  at  my  house." 

"  Come,  come,  my  friend,"  interrupted  the  marquise, 
"  do  not  neglect  your  duty  to  linger  with  us.  You  are 
the  king's  servant,  and  must  go  whithersoever  that  service 
calls  you." 

"  Oh,  Yillef ort  1 "  cried  Ren6e,  clasping  her  hands  and 


60  THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRTSTO. 

looking  toward  her  lover  with  piteous  earnestness,  "  be 
merciful  on  this  the  day  of  our  betrothal." 

The  young  man  passed  round  to  the  side  of  the  table 
where  the  fair  pleader  sat,  and  leaning  over  her  chair  said, 
tenderly : 

"  To  give  you  pleasure,  my  sweet  Renee,  I  promise  to 
show  all  the  lenity  in  my  power;  but  if  the  charges 
brought  against  this  Bonapartean  hero  prove  correct,  why, 
then,  you  really  must  give  me  leave  to  order  his  head  to  be 
cut  off." 

Renee,  with  an  almost  convulsive  shudder,  turned  away 
her  head,  as  though  the  very  mention  of  killing  a  fellow- 
creature  in  cold  blood  was  more  than  her  tender  nature 
could  endure. 

"  Never  mind  that  foolish  girl,  Villefort,"  said  the 
marquise,  "  she  will  soon  get  over  these  things."  So  say- 
ing, Mme.  de  Saint-Meran,  extended  her  dry,  bony  hand  to 
Villefort,  who,  while  imprinting  a  son-in-law's  respectful 
salute  on  it,  looked  at  Renee,  as  much  as  to  say:  "  I  must 
try  and  fancy  'tis  your  dear  hand  I  kiss,  as  it  should  have 
been." 

"  These  are  mournful  auspices  to  accompany  a  be- 
trothal ! "  sighed  poor  Renee. 

"  Upon  my  word,  child  ! "  exclaimed  the  angry  mar- 
quise, "  your  folly  exceeds  all  bounds.  I  should  be  glad 
to  know  what  connection  there  can  possibly  be  between 
your  sickly  sentimentality  and  the  affairs  of  the  state?" 

"  Oh,  mother  !"   murmured  Renee. 

"  Nay,  madame,  I  pray  you  pardon  this  little  traitor;  I 
promise  you  that  to  make  up  for  her  want  of  loyalty,  I 
will  be  most  inflexibly  severe."  Then  casting  an  expressive 
glance  at  his  betrothed,  which  seem  to  say,  "  Fear  not, 
for  your  dear  sake  my  justice  shall  be  tempered  with 
mercy,"  and  receiving  a  sweet  and  approving  smile  in  re- 
turn, Villefort  quitted  the  room. 


CHAPTER  VIL 

THE     EXAMINATION. 

No  SOONER  had  Villefort  left  the  salon,  than  he  assumed 
the  grave  air  of  a  man  who  holds  the  balance  of  life  and 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO.  61 

death  in  his  hands.  Except  the  recollection  of  the  line  of 
politics  his  father  had  adopted,  and  which  might  interfere, 
unless  he  acted  with  the  greatest  prudence,  with  his  own 
career,  Villefort  was  as  happy  as  a  man  could  be  Already 
rich,  he  held  a  high  official  situation,  though  only  27. 
He  was  about  to  marry  a  young  and  charming 
woman;  and,  besides  her  personal  attractions,  which  were 
very  great,  Mdlle.  de  Saint-Meran's  family  possessed  con- 
siderable political  influence,  which  they  would,  of  course, 
exert  in  his  favor.  The  dowry  of  his  wife  amounted  to 
£6,000,  besides  the  prospect  of  inheriting  £20,000  more  at 
her  father's  death.  At  the  door  he  met  the  commissary  of 
police,  who  was  waiting  for  him.  The  sight  of  this  officer 
recalled  Villefort  from  the  third  heaven  to  earth;  he  com- 
posed his  face  as  we  have  before  described,  and  said  :  "  I 
nave  read  the  letter,  monsieur,  and  you  have  acted  rightly 
in  arresting  this  man;  now  inform  me  what  you  have  dis- 
covered concerning  him  and  the  conspiracy." 

"We  know  nothing  as  yet  of  the  conspiracy,  monsieur; 
all  the  papers  found  have  been  sealed  up  and  placed  on 
your  bureau.  The  prisoner  himself  is  named  Edmond 
Dant^s,  mate  on  board  the  three-master,  the  Pharaon,  trad- 
ing in  cotton  with  Alexandria  and  Smyrna,  and  belonging 
to  Morrel  &  Son,  of  Marseilles." 

"  Before  he  entered  the  navy,  had  he  ever  served  in  the 
marines  ?" 

"  Oh,  no,  monsieur,  he  is  very  young." 

"Ho  wold?" 

"Nineteen  or  20  at  the  most." 

At  this  moment,  and  as  Villofort  had  arrived  at  the 
corner  of  the  Kue  des  Conseiles,  a  man  who  seemed  to 
have  been  waiting  for  him  approached.  It  was  M.  Morrel. 

"Ah!  M.  de  Villefort,"  cried  he,  "I  am  delighted  to 
see  you.  Some  of  your  people  have  committed  the 
strangest  mistake — they  have  just  arrested  Edmond  Dant£s, 
the  mate  of  my  ship." 

"I  know  it,  monsieur,"  replied  Villefort,  "and  I  am 
now  going  to  examine  him." 

"  Oh,"  said  M.  Morrel,  carried  away  by  his  friendship, 
"  you  do  not  know  him  and  I  do.  He  is  the  most  esti- 
mable, the  most  trustworthy  creature  in  the  world,  and  I 
will  venture  to  say  there  is  not  a  better  seamau  in  all  the 
merchant  service.  Oh,  M.  de  Villefort,  I  beseech  your 
indulgence  for  him." 


62  THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CBISTO. 

Villefort,  as  we  have  seen,  belonged  to  the  aristocratic 
party  at  Marseilles;  Morrel  to  the  plebeian.  The  first  was 
a  royalist,  the  other  suspected  of  Bonapartism.  Villefort 
looked  disdainfully  at  Morrel  and  replied: 

"  You  are  aware,  monsieur,  that  a  man  may  be  estimable 
and  trustworthy  in  private  life,  and  the  best  seaman  in  the 
merchant  service,  and  yet  be,  politically  speaking,  a  great 
criminal.  Is  it  not  true?" 

The  magistrate  laid  emphasis  on  these  words,  as  if  he 
wished  to  apply  them  to  the  owner  himself,  while  his  eyes 
seemed  to  plunge  into  the  heart  of  him  who,  while  he 
interceded  for  another,  had  himself  need  of  indulgence. 
Morrel  reddened,  for  his  own  conscience  was  not  quite 
clear  on  politics:  besides,  what  Dante's  had  told  him  of 
his  interview  with  the  grand  marshal,  and  what  the  em- 
peror had  said  to  him,  embarrassed  him.  He  replied, 
however: 

"  I  entreat  you,  M.  de  Villefort,  be,  as  you  always  are, 
kind  and  equitable,  and  give  him  back  to  us  soon." 

This  give  us  sounded  revolutionary  in  the  sub-prefect's 
ears. 

"Ah,  ah!"  murmured  he,  "is  Dante's,  then,  a  member  of 
some  Carbonari  society,  that  his  protector  thus  employs 
the  collective  form?  He  was,  if  I  recollect,  arrested  in  a 
cabaret,  in  company  with  a  great  many  others."  Then  he 
added:  "Monsieur,  you  may  rest  assured  I  shall  perform 
my  duty  impartially,  and  that  if  he  be  innocent  you  shall 
not  have  appealed  to  me  in  vain;  should  he,  however,  be 
guilty,  in  this  present  epoch  impunity  would  furnish  a 
dangerous  example,  and  I  must  do  my  duty." 

As  he  had  now  arrived  at  the  door  of  his  own  house, 
which  adjoined  the  Palais  de  Justice,  he  entered,  after 
having  saluted  the  ship-owner,  who  stood  as  if  petrified  on 
the  spot  where  Villefort  had  left  him.  The  ante-chamber 
was  full  of  agents  of  police  and  gendarmes,  in  the  midst  of 
whom,  carefully  watched,  but  calm  and  smiling,  stood  the 
prisoner.  Villefort  traversed  the  ante-chamber,  cast  a  side 
glance  at  Dantes,  and  taking  a  packet  which  a  gendarme 
offered  him,  disappeared,  saying: 

" Bring  in  the  prisoner." 

Kapid  as  had  been  Villefort's  glance,  it  had  served  to 
give  him  an  idea  of  the  man  he  was  about  to  interrogate. 
He  had  recognized  intelligence  in  the  high  forehead, 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRI8TO.  63 

courage  in  the  dark  eye  and  bent  brow  and  frankness 
in  the  thick  lips  that  showed  a  set  of  pearly  teeth. 
Villefort's  first  impression  was  favorable,  but  he  had  been 
so  often  warned  to  mistrust  first  impulses  that  he  applied 
the  maxim  to  the  impression,  forgetting  the  difference 
between  the  two  words.  He  stifled,  therefore,  the  feelings 
of  compassion  that  were  rising,  composed  his  features  and 
sat  down  at  his  bureau.  An  instant  after  Dantes  entered. 
He  was  pale,  but  calm  and  collected,  and,  saluting  his 
judge  with  easy  politeness,  looked  round  for  a  seat,  as  if 
he  had  been  in  the  salon  of  M.  Morrel.  It  was  then  that 
he  encountered  for  the  first  time  Villefort's  look — that  look 
peculiar  to  justice,  which,  while  it  seems  to  read  the  cul- 
prit's thoughts,  betrays  nought  of  its  own. 

"Who  and  what  are  you?  demanded  Villefort,  turning 
over  a  pile  of  papers  containing  information  relative  to  the 
prisoner  that  an  agent  of  police  had  given  to  him  on  his 
entry. 

"  My  name  is  Edmond  Dantes/'  replied  the  young  man, 
calmly.  "I  am  mate  of  the  Pharaon,  belonging  to  Messrs. 
Morrel  &  Son." 

"Your  age?"  continued  Villefort. 

"Nineteen,"  returned  Dantes. 

"What  were  you  doing  at  the  moment  you  were 
arrested?" 

"I  was  at  the  festival  of  my  marriage,  monsieur,"  said 
the  young  man,  his  voice  slightly  tremulous,  so  great  was 
the  contrast  between  that  happy  moment  and  the  painful 
ceremony  he  was  now  undergoing — so  great  was  the  con- 
trast between  the  somber  aspect  of  M.  de  Villefort  and  the 
radiant  face  of  Mercedes. 

"You  were  at  the  festival  of  your  marriage?"  «aid  the 
deputy,  shuddering  in  spite  of  himself. 

"Yes,  monsieur,  I  am  on  the  point  of  marrying  a  young 
girl  I  have  been  attached  to  for  three  years." 

Villefort,  impassive  as  he  was,  was  struck  with  this 
coincidence;  and  the  tremulous  voice  of  Dantes,  surprised 
in  the  midst  of  his  happiness,  struck  a  sympathetic  chord 
in  his  own  bosom.  He  also  was  on  the  point  of  being 
married,  and  he  was  summoned  from  his  own  happiness 
to  destroy  that  of  another. 

"This  philosophic  reflection,"  thought  he,  "will  make 
a  great  sensation  at  M.  de  Saint-Meran  s,"  and  he  arranged 


64  THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRI8W. 

mentally,  while  Dantes  awaited  further  questions,  the 
antithesis  by  which  orators  often  create  a  reputation  for 
eloquence.  When  this  speech  was  arranged  Villefort 
turned  to  Dantes. 

"Continue,  sir,"  said  he. 

"What  would  you  have  me  continue?" 

"  To  give  all  the  information  in  your  power." 

"Tell  me  on  which  point  you  desire  information,  and  I 
will  tell  all  I  know,  only,"  added  he,  with  a  smile,  "I 
warn  you  I  know  very  little." 

"Have  you  served  under  the  usurper?" 

"I  was  about  to  be  incorporated  in  the  royal  marines 
when  he  fell." 

( '  It  is  reported  your  political  views  are  extreme,"  said 
Villefort,  who  had  never  heard  anything  of  the  kind,  but 
was  not  sorry  to  make  this  inquiry,  as  if  it  were  an 
accusation. 

"My  political  opinions!"  replied  Dantes.  "Alas!  sir,  I 
never  had  any  opinions.  I  am  hardly  19;  I  know  nothing; 
I  have  no  part  to  play.  If  I  obtain  the  situation  I  desire 
I  shall  owe  it  to  M.  Morrel.  Thus  all  my  opinions — I  will 
not  say  public,  but  private — are  confined  to  these  three 
sentiments:  I  love  my  father,  I  respect  M.  Morrel,  and  I 
adore  Mercedes.  This,  sir,  is  all  I  can  tell  you,  and  you 
see  how  uninteresting  it  is." 

As  Dantes  spoke  Villefort  gazed  at  his  ingenuous  and 
open  countenance  and  recollected  the  words  of  Renee, 
who,  without  knowing  who  the  culprit  was,  had  besought 
his  indulgence  for  him.  With  the  deputy's  knowledge  of 
crime  and  criminals,  every  word  the  young  man  uttered 
convinced  him  more  and  more  of  his  innocence.  This 
lad — for  he  was  scarcely  a  man — simple,  natural,  eloquent 
with  that  eloquence  of  the  heart  never  found  when  sought 
for,  full  of  affection  for  everybody  because  he  was  happy, 
and  because  happiness  renders  even  the  wicked  good, 
extended  his  affection  even  to  his  judge,  spite  of  Villefort's 
severe  look  and  stern  accent.  Dantes  seemed  full  of 
kindness. 

"  Pardieu!"  said  Villefort,  "he  is  a  noble  fellow!  I 
hope  I  shall  gain  Renee's  favor  easily  by  obeying  the  first 
command  she  ever  imposed  on  me.  I  shall  have,  at  least,  a 
pressure  of  the  hand  in  public  and  a  sweet  kiss  in 
private." 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRI8TO.  65 

Full  of  this  idea,  Villefort's  face  became  so  joyous  that, 
when  he  turned  to  Dante's,  the  latter,  who  had  watched 
the  change  on  his  physiognomy,  was  smiling  also. 

"  Sir,  said  Villefort,  "  have  you  any  enemies — at  least 
that  you  know?" 

"  I  have  enemies?"  replied  Dantes;  "  my  position  is  not 
sufficiently  elevated  for  that.  As  for  my  character,  that  is, 
perhaps,  somewhat  too  hasty;  but  I  have  striven  to  repress 
it.  I  have  had  ten  or  twelve  sailors  under  me;  and,  if  you 
question  them,  they  will  tell  you  that  they  love  and  respect 
me;  not  as  a  father,  for  I  am  too  young,  but  as  an  elder 
brother." 

"  But,  instead  of  enemies,  you  may  have  excited  jealousy. 
You  are  about  to  become  captain  at  19 — an  elevated  post; 
you  are  about  to  marry  a  pretty  girl,  who  loves  you,  and 
these  two  pieces  of  good  fortune  may  have  excited  the 
envy  of  some  one." 

"  You  are  right;  you  know  men  better  than  I  do,  and 
what  you  say  may  possibly  be  the  case,  I  confess;  I  prefer 
not  knowing  them,  because  then  I  should  be  forced  to  hate 
them." 

"  You  are  wrong;  you  should  always  strive  to  see  clearly 
around  you.  You  seem  a  worthy  young  man;  I  will  depart 
from  the  strict  line  of  my  duty  to  aid  you  in  discovering 
the  author  of  this  accusation.  Here  is  the  paper;  do  you 
know  the  writing?" 

As  he  spoke,  Villefort  drew  the  letter  from  his  pocket 
and  presented  it  to  Dantes.  Dantes  read  it.  A  cloud 
passed  over  his  brow  as  he  said: 

"  No,  monsieur,  I  do  not  know  the  writing,  and  yet  it  is 
tolerably  plain.  Whoever  did  it  writes  well.  I  am  very 
fortunate,"  added  he,  looking  gratefully  at  Villefort,  "  to 
be  examined  by  such  a  man  as  you;  for  this  envious  person 
is  a  real  enemy."  And  by  the  rapid  glance  that  the  young 
man's  eyes  shot  forth,  Villefort  saw  now  much  energy  lay 
hid  beneath  this  mildness. 

"  Now,"  said  the  deputy,  "  answer  me  frankly — not  as  a 
prisoner  to  a  judge,  but  as  one  man  to  another,  who  takes 
an  interest  in  him — what  truth  is  there  in  the  accusation 
contained  in  this  anonymous  letter?"  And  Villefort  threw 
disdainfully  on  his  bureau  the  Letter  Dantes  had  just  given 
back  to  him. 

"  None  at  all.     I  will  tell  von  the  real  facts.     I  swear  by 


66  THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRI8TO. 

my  honor  as  a  sailor,  by  my  love  for  Mercede's,  by  the  life 
of  my  father " 

"  Speak,  monsieur/'  said  Villefort.  Then,  internally: 
( '  If  Renee  could  see  me,  I  hope  she  would  be  satisfied,  and 
would  no  longer  call  me  a  decapitator." 

"  Well,  when  we  quitted  Naples  Capt.  Leclere  was  at- 
tacked with  a  brain-fever.  As  we  had  no  doctor  on  board, 
and  he  was  so  anxious  to  arrive  at  Elba  that  he  would  not 
touch  at  any  other  port,  his  disorder  rose  to  such  a  height 
that,  at  the  end  of  the  third  day,  feeling  he  was  dying,  he 
called  me  to  him.  (  My  dear  Dantes,'  said  he,  '  swear  to 
perform  what  I  am  going  to  tell  you,  for  it  is  a  matter  of 
the  deepest  importance.' 

"  '  I  swear,  captain,'  replied  I. 

"  '  Well,  as  after  my  death  the  command  devolves  on 
you,  as  mate,  assume  the  command  and  bear  up  for  the 
Isle  of  Elba,  disembark  at  Porto-Ferrajo,  ask  for  the  grand 
marshal,  give  him  this  letter;  perhaps  they  will  give  you 
another  letter  and  charge  you  with  a  commission.  You 
will  accomplish  what  I  was  to  have  done,  and  derive  all  the 
honor  and  profit  from  it.' 

"  'I  will  do  it,  captain;  but,  perhaps,  I  shall  not  be  ad- 
mitted to  the  grand  marshal's  presence  as  easily  as  you 
expect.' 

"  '  Here  is  a  ring  that  will  obtain  audience  of  him  and 
remove  every  difficulty,'  said  the  captain.  At  these  words 
he  gave  me  a  ring.  It  was  time;  two  hours  after  he  was 
delirious;  the  next  day  he  died." 

"  And  what  did  you  do  then?" 

"  What  I  ought  to  have  done,  and  what  every  one  would 
have  done  in  my  place.  Everywhere  the  last  requests  of  a 
dying  man  are  sacred;  but,  with  a  sailor,  the  last  requests 
of  his  superior  are  commands.  I  sailed  for  the  Isle  of  Elba, 
where  I  arrived  the  next  day;  I  ordered  everybody  to  re- 
main on  board  and  went  on  shore  alone.  As  I  had  expected, 
I  found  some  difficulty  in  obtaining  access  to  the  grand 
marshal;  but  I  sent  the  ring  I  had  received  from  the  cap- 
tain to  him,  and  was  instantly  admitted.  He  questioned 
me  concerning  Capt.  Leclere's  death;  and,  as  the  latter 
had  told  me,  gave  me  a  letter  to  carry  on  to  a  person  in 
Paris.  I  undertook  it,  because  it  was  what  my  captain  had 
bade  me  do.  I  landed  here,  regulated  the  affairs  of  the 
vessel  and  hastened  to  visit  my  affianced  bride,  whom  I 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO.  67 

found  more  lovely  than  ever.  Thanks  to  M.  Morrel,  all 
the  forms  were  got  over;  in  a  word,  I  was,  as  I  told  you, 
at  my  marriage-feast,  and  I  should  have  been  married  in 
an  hour,  and  to-morrow  I  intended  to  start  for  Paris." 

"  Ah!"  said  Villefort,  "  this  seems  to  me  the  truth.  If 
you  have  been  culpable,  it  was  imprudence,  and  this  im- 
prudence was  legitimized  by  the  orders  of  your  captain. 
Give  up  this  letter  you  have  brought  from  Elba,  and  pass 
your  word  you  will  appear  should  you  be  required,  and  go 
and  rejoin  your  friends." 

"  I  am  free,  then,  sir?"  cried  Dantes,  joyfully. 

"  Yes,  but  first  give  me  this  letter." 

"  You  have  it  already,  for  it  was  taken  from  me  with 
some  others  which  I  see  in  that  packet." 

"  Stop  a  moment,"  said  the  deputy,  as  Dantes  took  his 
hat  and  gloves.  "  To  whom  is  it  addressed?" 

"To  M.  Noirtier,  Hue  Coq-Heron,  Paris." 

Had  a  thunderbolt  fallen  into  the  room  Villefort  could 
not  have  been  more  stupefied.  He  sank  into  his  seat,  and, 
hastily  turning  over  the  packet,  drew  forth  the  fatal  letter, 
at  which  he  glanced  with  an  expression  of  terror. 

"  M.  Nortier,  Rue  Coq-Heron,  No.  13,"  murmured  he, 
growing  still  paler. 

"  Yes,"  said  Dantes;  do  you,  then,  know  him?" 

"  No,"  replied  Villefort;  "  a  faithful  servant  of  the  king 
does  not  know  conspirators." 

"It  is  a  conspiracy,  then?"  asked  Dantes,  who,  after 
believing  himself  free,  now  began  to  feel  a  tenfold  alarm. 
"  I  have  already  told  you,  however,  sir,  I  was  ignorant  of 
the  contents  of  the  letter." 

"  Yes,  but  you  knew  the  name  of  the  person  to  whom  it 
was  addressed,"  said  Villefort. 

"  I  was  forced  to  read  the  address  to  know  to  whom  to 
give  it." 

"  Have  you  shown  this  letter  to  any  oneP'  asked  Ville- 
fort, becoming  still  more  pale. 

"  To  no  one,  on  my  honor." 

"  Everybody  is  ignorant  that  you  are  the  bearer  of  a 
letter  from  the  Isle  of  Elba,  and  addressed  to  M.  Noir- 
tier?" 

"  Everybody,  except  the  person  who  gave  it  to  me." 

"  This  is  too  much,"  murmured  Villefort.  Villefort's 
brow  darkened  more  and  more,  his  white  lips  and  clinched 


68  THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO. 

teeth  filled  Dantes  with  apprehension.  After  reading  the 
letter  Villefort  covered  his  face  with  his  hands. 

"Oh!"  said  Dantes,   timidly;  "what  is  the  matter?" 

Villefort  made  no  answer,  but  raised  his  head  at  the 
expiration  of  a  few  seconds,  and  again  perused  the 
letter. 

"  You  give  me  your  honor  that  you  are  ignorant  of  the 
contents  of  this  letter?" 

"I  give  you  my  honor,  sir,"  said  Dautes  ;  "  but  what  is 
the  matter?  You  are  ill — and  shall  I  ring  for  assistance? 
—shall  I  call?" 

"  No,"  said  Villefort,  rising  hastily  ;  "  stay  where  you 
are.  It  is  for  me  to  give  orders  here,  and  not  you." 

"  Monsieur,"  replied  Dantes,  proudly,  "it  was  only  to 
summon  assistance  for  you." 

"  I  want  none  ;  it  was  a  temporary  indisposition.  Attend 
to  yourself  ;  answer  me." 

Dante's  waited,  expecting  a  question,  but  in  vain.  Ville- 
fort fell  back  on  his  chair,  passed  his  hand  over  his  brow, 
moist  with  perspiration,  and,  for  the  third  time,  read  the 
letter. 

"  Oh  !  if  he  knows  the  contents  of  this  !"  murmured  he, 
"  and  that  Noirtier  is  the  father  of  Villefort,  I  am  lost  \" 

And  he  fixed  his  eyes  upon  Edmond  as  if  he  would  have 
penetrated  his  thoughts. 

"  Oh  !  it  is  impossible  to  doubt  it,"  cried  he,  suddenly. 

"In  heaven's  name  !"  cried  the  unhappy  young  man, 
"  if  you  doubt  me,  question  me  ;  I  will  answer  you." 

Villefort  made  a  violent  effort,  and  in  a  tone  he  strove  to 
render  firm  : 

"  Sir,"  said  he,  "I  am  no  longer  able,  as  I  had  hoped,  to 
restore  you  immediately  to  liberty  ;  before  doing  so  I 
must  consult  the  judge  of  instruction  ;  but  you  see  how  I 
behave  toward  you." 

"  Oh  !  monsieur,"  cried  Dantes,  "you  have  been  rather 
a  friend  than  a  judge." 

"  Well,  I  must  detain  you  some  time  longer,  but  I  will 
strive  to  make  it  as  short  as  possible.  The  principal  charge 
against  you  is  this  letter,  and  you  see " 

Villefort  approached  the  fire,  cast  it  in,  and  waited  until 
it  was  entirely  consumed. 

"  You  see,  I  destroy  it?" 

" Oh  !"  exclaimed  Dantes,  "you  are  goodness  itself." 


THE  CO  UNT  OF  MONTE  OR18TO.  69 

"  Listen/'  continued  Villefort ;  "  you  can  now  have 
confidence  in  me  after  what  I  have  done." 

"  Oh  !  order  me,  and  I  will  obey." 

"  Listen  !  this  is  not  an  order,  but  a  counsel  I  give 
you." 

'•  Speak,  and  I  will  follow  your  advice." 

"  I  shall  detain  you  until  this  evening  in  the  Palais  de 
Justice.  Should  any  one  else  interrogate  you,  do  not 
breathe  a  word  of  this  letter." 

"I  promise." 

It  was  Villefort  who  seemed  to  entreat,  and  the  prisoner 
who  reassured  him. 

"  You  see,"  continued  he,  "  the  letter  is  destroyed  ;  you 
and  I  alone  know  of  its  existence  ;  should  you,  therefore, 
be  questioned,  deny  all  knowledge  of  it." 

"  Fear  nothing  ;  I  will  deny  it." 

"  It  was  the  only  letter  you  had?" 

"It  was." 

"  Swear  it." 

"I  swear  it." 

Villefort  rang.  An  agent  of  police  entered.  Ville- 
fort whispered  some  words  in  his  ear,  to  which  the  officer 
replied  by  a  motion  of  his  head. 

"  Follow  him,"  said  Villefort  to  Dantes. 

Dante's  saluted  Villefort  and  retired.  Hardly  had  the 
door  closed  than  Villefort  threw  himself  into  a  chair. 

"Alas  !  alas  !"  murmured  he,  "  if  the  procureur  de  roi 
had  been  at  Marseilles  I  should  have  been  ruined.  This 
accursed  letter  would  have  destroyed  all  my  hopes.  Oh  ! 
my  father,  must  your  past  career  always  interfere  with  my 
successes  ?" 

Suddenly  a  light  passed  over  his  face,  a  smile  played 
round  his  mouth,  and  his  lips  became  unclinched. 

"  This  will  do,"  said  he,  "  and  from  this  letter,  which 
might  have  ruined  me,  I  will  make  my  fortune." 

And,  after  having  assured  himself  the  prisoner  was  gone, 
the  deputy  procureur  hastened  to  the  house  of  his  bride. 


DUMAS— VOL.  I.- 


70  THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRI8TO. 

CHAPTER  VIII. 

THE     CHATEAU      D '  I  F. 

THE  commissary  of  police,  as  he  traversed  the  ante- 
chamber, made  a  sign  to  two  gendarmes,  who  placed  them- 
selves one  on  Dantls  right  and  the  other  on  his  left.  A 
door  that  communicated  with  the  Palais  de  Justice  was 
opened,  and  they  traversed  a  long  range  of  gloomy  cor- 
ridors, whose  appearance  might  have  made  even  the  boldest 
shudder.  The  Palais  de  Justice  communicated  with  the 
prison — a  somber  edifice,  that  from  its  grated  windows 
looks  on  the  clock-tower  of  the  Accoules.  After  number- 
less windings  Dantes  saw  an  iron  door.  The  commissary 
knocked  thrice,  every  blow  seeming  to  Dantes  as  if  struck 
on  his  heart.  The  door  opened,  the  two  gendarmes  gently 
pushed  him  forward,  and  the  door  closed  with  a  loud  sound 
behind  him.  The  air  he  inhaled  was  no  longer  pure,  but 
thick  and  mephitic — he  was  in  prison.  He  was  conducted 
to  a  tolerably  neat  chamber,  but  grated  and  barred,  and  its 
appearance,  therefore,  did  not  greatly  alarm  him  ;  besides, 
the  words  of  Villefort,  who  seemed  to  interest  himself  so 
much,  resounded  still  in  his  ears  like  a  promise  of  freedom. 
It  was  4  o'clock  when  Dantes  was  placed  in  this  cham- 
ber. It  was,  as  we  have  said,  the  1st  of  March,  and  the 
prisoner  was  soon  buried  in  darkness.  The  obscurity  aug- 
mented the  acuteness  of  his  hearing  ;  at  the  slightest  sound 
he  rose  and  hastened  to  the  door,  convinced  they  were 
about  to  liberate  him ;  but  the  sound  died  away,  and 
Dantes  sank  again  into  his  seat.  At  last,  about  10  o'clock, 
and  just  as  Dantes  began  to  despair,  steps  were  heard  in 
the  corridor,  a  key  turned  in  the  lock,  the  bolts  creaked, 
the  massy  oaken  door  flew  open,  and  a  flood  of  light  from 
two  torches  pervaded  the  apartment.  By  the  torchlight 
Dant&s  saw  the  glittering  sabers  and  carbines  of  four  gen- 
darmes. He  had  advanced  at  first,  but  stopped  at  the 
sight  of  this  fresh  accession  of  force. 

"Are  you  come  to  fetch  me?"  asked  he. 

"  Yes,"  replied  a  gendarme. 

"  By  the  orders  of  the  deputy  of  king's  procureur  ?" 

"I  believe  so." 

The  conviction  that  they  came  from  M.  de  Villefort  re- 


THE  CO  UNT  OF  MONTE  CRI8TO.  71 

lieved  all  DanteV  apprehensions  ;  he  advanced  calmly  and 
placed  himself  in  the  center  of  the  escort.  A  carriage 
waited  at  the  door,  the  coachman  was  on  the  box,  and  an 
exempt  seated  behind  him. 

"  Is  this  carriage  for  me?"  said  Dante's. 

"It  is  for  you,    replied  a  gendarme. 

Dant£s  was  about  to  speak  ;  but  feeling  himself  urged 
forward,  and  having  neither  the  power  nor  the  intention  to 
resist,  he  mounted  the  steps,  and  was  in  an  instant  seated 
inside  between  two  gendarmes  ;  the  two  others  took  their 
places  opposite,  and  the  carriage  rolled  heavily  over  the 
Btones. 

The  prisoner  glanced  at  the  windows — they  were  grated; 
he  had  changed  his  prison  for  another  that  was  conveying 
him  he  knew  not  whither.  Through  the  grating,  how- 
ever, Dant^s  saw  they  were  passing  through  the  Eue  Cais- 
serie,  and  by  the  Quay  Saint-Laurent  and  the  Eue  Taramis, 
to  the  port. 

The  carriage  stopped,  the  exempt  descended,  approached 
the  guard-house,  a  dozen  soldiers  came  but  and  formed 
themselves  in  order ;  Dant6s  saw  the  reflection  of  their 
muskets  by  the  light  of  the  lamps  on  the  quay. 

"Can  all  this  force  be  summoned  on  my  account?" 
thought  he. 

The  exempt  opened  the  door,  which  was  locked,  and, 
without  speaking  a  word,  answered  Dantes'  question ;  for 
he  saw  between  the  ranks  of  the  soldiers  a  passage  formed 
from  the  carriage  to  the  port.  The  two  gendarmes  who 
were  opposite  to  him  descended  first,  then  he  was  ordered 
to  alight,  and  the  gendarmes  on  each  side  of  him  followed 
his  example.  They  advanced  toward  a  boat,  which  a 
custom-house  officer  held  by  a  chain,  near  the  quay. 

The  soldiers  looked  at  Dantes  with  an  air  of  stupid 
curiosity.  In  an  instant  he  was  placed  in  the  stern-sheets 
of  the  boat,  between  the  gendarmes,  while  the  exempt 
stationed  himself  at  the  bow;  a  shove  sent  the  boat  adrift, 
and  four  sturdy  oarsman  impelled  it  rapidly  toward  the 
Pilon.  At  a  shout  from  the  boat  the  chain  that  closes  the 
mouth  of  the  port  was  lowered,  and  in  a  second  they  were 
outside  the  harbor. 

The  prisoner's  first  feeling  was  joy  at  again  breathing 
the  puir  air — for  air  is  freedom  ;  but  he  soon  sighed,  for  he 
passed  before  La  Reserve.,  where  he  had  that  morning  been 


72  THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRI8TO. 

so  happy,  and  now  through  the  open  windows  came  the 
laughter  and  revelry  of  a  ball.  Dantes  folded  his  hands, 
raised  his  eyes  to  heaven,  and  prayed  fervently. 

The  boat  continued  her  voyage.  They  had  passed  the 
T£te  de  More,  were  now  in  front  of  the  lighthouse,  and 
about  to  double  the  battery.  This  maneuver  was  incom- 
prehensible to  Dante's. 

"Whither  are  you  taking  me?"  asked  he. 

"  You  will  soon  know." 

"  But  still " 

"  We  are  forbidden  to  give  you  any  explanation." 

Dantes  knew  that  nothing  would  be  more  absurd  than  to 
question  subordinates,  who  were  forbidden  to  reply,  and 
remained  .silent. 

The  most  vague  and  wild  thoughts  passed  through  his 
mind.  The  boat  they  were  in  could  not  make  a  long  voy- 
age ;  there  was  no  vessel  at  anchor  outside  the  harbor  ;  he 
thought,  perhaps,  they  were  going  to  leave  him  on  some 
distant  point.  He  was  not  bound,  nor  had  they  made  any 
attempt  to  handcuff  him  ;  this  seemed  a  good  augury. 
Besides,  had  not  the  deputy,  who  had  been  so  kind  to  him, 
told  him  that,  provided  he  did  not  pronounce  the  dreaded 
name  of  Noirtier,  he  had  nothing  to  apprehend?  Had  not 
Villefort  in  his  presence  destroyed  the  fatal  letter,  the  only 

Soof  against  him?  He  waited  silently,  striving  to  pierce 
rough  the  darkness. 

They  had  left  the  He  Katonneau,  where  the  lighthouse 
stood,  on  the  right,  and  were  now  opposite  the  Point  des 
Catalans.  It  seemed  to  the  prisoner  that  he  could  dis- 
tinguish a  female  form  on  the  beach,  for  it  was  there 
Merc6d6s  dwelt.  How  was  it  that  a  presentiment  did  not 
warn  Mercedes  her  lover  was  near  her? 

One  light  alone  was  visible  ;  and  Dante's  recognized  it  as 
coming  from  the  chamber  of  Mercedes.  A  loud  cry  could 
be  heard  by  her.  He  did  not  utter  it.  What  would  his 
guards  think  if  they  heard  him  shout  like  a  madman? 

He  remained  silent,  his  eyes  fixed  upon  the  light  ;  the 
boat  went  on,  but  the  prisoner  only  thought  of  Mercedes. 
A  rising  ground  hid  the  light.  Dantes  turned  and  per- 
ceived they  had  got  out  to  sea.  While  he  had  been  ab- 
sorbed in  thought  they  had  hoisted  the  sail. 

In  spite  of  his  repugnance  to  address  the  guards,  Dantes 
turned  to  the  nearest  gendarme,  and  taking  his  hand  : 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRI8TO.  73 

"  Comrade,"  said  he,  ''I  adjure  you,  as  a  Christian  and 
a  soldier,  to  tell  me  where  we  are  going.  I  am  Oapt. 
Dantes,  a  loyal  Frenchman,  though  accused  of  treason ; 
tell  me  where  you  are  conducting  me,  and  I  promise  you 
on  my  honor  I  will  submit  to  my  fate." 

The  gendarme  looked  irresolutely  at  his  companion,  who 
returned  for  answer  a  sigh  that  said  :  "  I  see  no  great 
harm  in  telling  him  now,"  and  the  gendarme  replied : 

"You  are  a  native  of  Marseilles,  and  a  sailor,  and  yet 
you  do  not  know  where  you  are  going?" 

"On  my  honor,  I  have  no  idea." 

"  That  is  impossible." 

"  I  swear  to  you  it  is  true.     Tell  me,  I  entreat. 

"But  my  orders " 

"  Your  orders  do  not  forbid  your  telling  me  what  I  must 
know  in  ten  minutes,  in  half  an  hour,  or  an  hour.  You 
see  I  cannot  escape,  even  if  I  intended." 

"  Unless  you  are  blind,  or  have  never  been  outside  the 
harbor,  you  must  know." 

"I  do  not." 

"  Look  round  you,  then." 

Dantes  rose  and  looked  forward,  when  he  saw  rise  within 
a  hundred  yards  of  him  the  black  and  frowning  rock  on 
which  stands  the  Chdteau  d'If.  This  gloomy  fortress, 
which  has  for  more  than  300  years  furnished  food  for  so 
many  wild  legends,  seemed  to  Dantds  like  a  scaffold  to  a 
malefactor. 

"The  Chateau  d'lf?"  cried  he;  "what  are  we  going 
there  for?" 

The  gendarme  smiled. 

"  I  am  not  going  there  to  be  imprisoned,"  said  Dantes  ; 
"  it  is  only  used  for  political  prisoners.  I  have  committed 
no  crime.  Are  there  any  magistrates  or  judges  at  the 
Chateau  d'lf  ?" 

"  There  are  only,"  said  the  gendarme,  "  a  governor,  a 
garrison,  turnkeys,  and  good  thick  walls.  Come,  come,  do 
not  look  so  astonished,  or  you  will  make  me  think  you  are 
laughing  at  me  in  return  for  my  good  nature." 

Dantes  pressed  the  gendarme's  hand  as  though  he  would 
crush  it. 

"  You  think,  then,"  said  he,  "  that  I  am  conducted  to 
the  chateau  to  be  imprisoned  there?" 

"It  is  probable;  but  there  is  no  occasion  to  squeeze  so 
hard." 


74  THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRI8TO. 

"Without  any  formality?" 

"All  the  formalities  have  been  gone  through." 

"  In  spite  of  M.  de  Villefort's  promises?" 

"  I  do  not  know  what  M.  de  Villefort  promised  you," 
said  the  gendarme,  "  but  I  know  we  are  taking  you  to  the 
Chdteau  d'If.  But.  what  are  you  doing?  Help!  comrades, 
help  \" 

By  a  rapid  movement,  which  the  gendarme's  practised 
eye  had  perceived,  Dantes  sprang  forward  to  precipitate 
himself  into  the  sea ;  but  four  vigorous  arms  seized  him  as 
his  feet  quitted  the  flooring  of  the  boat.  He  fell  back 
foaming  with  rage. 

"  Good  !"  said  the  gendarme,  placing  his  knee  on  his 
chest ;  "  believe  soft-spoken  gentleman  again  !  Hark  ye, 
my  friend,  I  have  disobeyed  my  first  order,  but  I  will  not 
disobey  the  second  ;  and  if  you  move,  I  lodge  a  bullet  in 
your  brain." 

And  he  leveled  his  carbine  at  Dantes,  who  felt  the 
muzzle  touch  his  head. 

For  a  moment  the  idea  of  struggling  crossed  his  mind, 
and  so  end  the  unexpected  evil  that  had  overtaken  him. 
But  he  bethought  him  of  M.  de  Villefort's  promise  ;  and, 
besides,  death  in  a  boat  from  the  hand  of  a  gendarme 
seemed  too  terrible.  He  remained  motionless,  but  gnash- 
ing his  teeth  with  fury. 

At  this  moment  a  violent  shock  made  the  bark  tremble. 
One  of  the  sailors  leaped  on  shore,  a  cord  creaked  as  it  ran 
through  a  pulley,  and  Dantes  guessed  they  were  at  the  end 
of  the  voyage. 

His  guardians,  taking  hold  of  his  arms,  forced  him  to 
rise,  and  dragged  him  toward  the  steps  that  led  to  the 
gate  of  the  fortress,  while  the  exempt  followed,  armed  with 
a  carbine  and  bayonet. 

Dantes  made  no  resistance;  he  was  like  a  man  in  a 
dream ;  he  saw  soldiers  who  stationed  themselves  on  the 
sides;  he  felt  himself  forced  up  fresh  stairs;  he  perceived 
he  passed  through  a  door,  and  the  door  closed  behind  him; 
but  all  this  as  mechanically  as  through  a  mist,  nothing 
distinctly. 

They  halted  for  a  minute,  during  which  he  strove  to 
collect  his  thoughts.  He  looked  around  ;  he  was  in  a 
court  surrounded  by  high  walls;  he  heard  the  measured 
tread  of  sentinels,  and  as  they  passed  before  the  light  he 
saw  the  barrels  of  their  muskets  shine. 


THE  CO  UNT  OF  MONTE  ORI8TO.  75 

They  waited  upward  of  ten  minutes.  Certain  Dante's 
could  not  escape,  the  gendarmes  released  him.  They 
seemed  awaiting  orders.  The  orders  arrived. 

"  Where  is  the  prisoner?"  said  a  voice. 

"  Here/'  replied  the  gendarmes. 

"  Let  him  follow  me;  I  am  going  to  conduct  him  to  his 
room." 

"  Go!"  said  the  gendarmes,  pushing  Dant6s. 

The  prisoner  followed  his  conductor,  who  led  him  into  a 
room  almost  under  ground,  whose  bare  and  reeking  walls 
seemed  as  though  impregnated  with  tears;  a  lamp  placed 
on  a  stool  illumined  the  apartment  faintly  and  showed 
Dantes  the  features  of  his  conductor,  an  under-jailer,  ill- 
clothed  and  of  sullen  appearance. 

"  Here  is  your  chamber  for  to-night,"  said  he.  "  It  is 
late,  and  M.  le  Gouverneur  is  asleep.  To-morrow,  per- 
haps, he  may  change  you.  In  the  meantime  there  is  bread, 
water  and  fresh  straw;  and  that  is  all  that  a  prisoner  can 
wish  for.  Good-night."  And  before  Dantes  could  open 
his  mouth — before  he  had  noticed  where  the  jailer  placed 
his  bread  or  the  water — before  he  had  glanced  toward  the 
corner  where  the  straw  was,  the  jailer  disappeared,  taking 
with  him  the  lamp. 

Dantes  was  alone  in  darkness  and  in  silence — cold  as  the 
shadows  that  he  felt  breathe  on  his  burning  forehead. 
With  the  first  dawn  of  day  the  jailer  returned,  with  orders 
to  leave  Dante's  where  he  was.  He  found  the  prisoner  in 
the  same  position  as  if  fixed  there,  his  eyes  swollen  with 
weeping.  He  had  passed  the  night  standing  and  without 
sleep.  The  jailer  advanced;  Dante's  appeared  not  to  per- 
ceive him.  He  touched  him  on  the  shoulder;  Edmond 
started. 

'  Have  you  not  slept?"  said  the  jailer. 
'  I  don't  know,"  replied  Dante's. 

The  jailer  stared. 
'Are  you  hungry?"  continued  he. 
'I  don't  know." 
'  Do  you  wish  for  anything?" 
'  I  wish  to  see  the  governor." 

The  jailer  shrugged  his  shoulders  and  left  the  chamber. 

Dantes  followed  him  with  his  eyes  and  stretched  forth 
his  hands  toward  the  open  door;  but  the  door  closed.  All 
his  emotion  then  burst  forth;  he  cast  himself  on  the  ground, 


76  THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRI8TO. 

weeping  bitterly,  and  asking  himself  what  crime  he  had 
committed  that  he  was  thus  punished. 

The  day  passed  thus;  he  scarcely  tasted  food,  but  walked 
round  and  round  the  cell  like  a  wild  beast  in  its  cage. 
One  thought  in  particular  tormented  him,  namely,  that 
during  his  journey  hither  he  had  sat  so  still,  whereas  he 
might,  a  dozen  times,  have  plunged  into  the  sea,  and, 
thanks  to  his  powers  of  swimming,  for  which  he  was 
famous,  have  gained  the  shore,  concealed  himself  until  the 
arrival  of  a  Genoese  or  Spanish  vessel,  escaped  to  Spain  or 
Italy,  where  Mercedes  and  his  father  could  have  joined 
him.  He  had  no  fears  as  to  how  he  should  live — good 
seamen  are  welcome  everywhere.  He  spoke  Italian  like  a 
Tuscan,  and  Spanish  like  a  Castilian;  he  would  then  have 
been  happy,  whereas  he  was  now  confined  in  the  Chdteau 
d'lf ,  ignorant  of  the  future  destiny  of  his  father  and  Mer- 
cM6s;  and  all  this  because  he  had  trusted  to  Villefort's 
promise.  The  thought  was  maddening,  and  Dant£s  threw 
himself  furiously  down  on  his  straw.  The  next  morning 
the  jailer  made  his  appearance. 

"  Well,"  said  the  jailer,  "  are  you  more  reasonable 
to-day?" 

Dantes  made  no  reply. 

"Come,  take  courage;  do  you  want  anything  in  my 
power  to  do  for  you?" 

wish  to  see  the  governor." 
'  I  have  already  told  you  it  was  impossible." 
'Why  so?" 

Because  it  is  not  allowed  by  the  rules." 
What  is  allowed,  then?" 

'  Better  fare,  if  you  pay  for  it,  books,  and  leave  to  walk 
about." 

"  I  do  not  want  books;  I  am  satisfied  with  my  food,  and 
I  do  not  care  to  walk  about;  but  I  wish  to  see  the 
governor." 

"  If  you  worry  me  by  repeating  the  same  thing  I  will 
not  bring  you  any  more  to  eat." 

"Well,  then,"  said  Edmond,  "if  you  do  not,  I  shall  die 
of  famine — that  is  all." 

The  jailer  saw  by  his  tone  that  he  would  be  happy  to  die; 
and  as  every  prisoner  is  worth  6  pence  a  day  to  his  jailer,  he 
replied  in  a  more  subdued  tone: 

"  What  you  ask  is  impossible;  but  if  you  are  very  well 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CR18TO.  77 

behaved  you  will  be  allowed  to  walk  about,  and  some  day 
you  will  meet  the  governor;  and,  if  he  chooses  to  reply, 
that  is  his  affair/' 

"  But/'  asked  Dantes,  "  how  long  shall  I  have  to  wait?" 

"  Ah!  a  month — six  months — a  year." 

"It  is  too  long  a  time.     I  wish  to  see  him  at  once." 

"Ah,"  said  the  jailer,  "  do  not  always  brood  over  what 
is  impossible,  or  you  will  be  mad  in  a  fortnight." 

"You  think  so?" 

"  Yes;  we  have  an  instance  here;  it  was  by  always  offer- 
ing 1,000,000  francs  to  the  governor  for  his  liberty  that 
an  abbe  became  mad,  who  was  in  this  chamber  before  you." 

"  How  long  has  he  left  it?" 

"  Two  years." 

"Was  he  liberated,  then?" 

"  No;  he  was  put  in  a  dungeon." 

"  Listen!"  said  Dantes.  "I  am  not  an  abbe,  I  am  not 
mad;  perhaps  I  shall  be,  but  at  present,  unfortunately,  1 
am  not.  I  will  make  you  another  offer." 

"  What  is  that?" 

"  I  do  not  offer  you  a  million,  because  1  have  it  not; 
but  I  will  give  you  100  crowns  if,  the  first  time  you  go 
to  Marseilles,  you  will  seek  out  a  young  girl  named  Mer- 
ce"des,  at  the  Catalans,  and  give  her  two  lines  for  me." 

"If  I  took  them  and  were  detected,  I  should  lose 
my  place,  which  is  worth  2,000  francs  a  year;  so  that  I 
should  be  a  great  fool  to  run  such  a  risk  for  300." 

"  Well,"  said  Dante's,  "  mark  this;  if  you  refuse  at  least 
to  tell  Mercedes  I  am  here,  I  will  some  day  hide  myself 
behind  the  door,  and  when  you  enter  I  will  dash  out  your 
brains  with  this  stool." 

"  Threats!"  cried  the  jailer,  retreating  and  putting  him- 
self on  the  defensive;  "you  are  certainly  going  mad. 
The  abbe  began  like  you,  and  in  three  days  you  will 
want  a  strait- waistcoat;  but,  fortunately,  there  are  dun- 
geons here." 

Dantes  whirled  the  stool  round  his  head. 

"Oh!"  said  the  jailer,  "you  shall  see  the  governor  at 
once." 

"  That  is  right,"  returned  Dante's,  dropping  the  stool 
and  sitting  on  it  as  if  he  were  in  reality  mad. 

The  jailer  went  out,  and  returned  in  an  instant  with  a 
corporal  and  four  soldiers. 


78  THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  (JRI8TO. 

"  By  the  governor's  orders/'  said  he,  "  conduct  the 
prisoner  to  the  story  beneath." 

"  To  the  dungeon,  then,"  said  the  corporal. 

"Yes;  we  must  put  the  madman  with  the  madmen." 

The  soldiers  seized  Dantes,  who  followed  passively.  He 
descended  fifteen  steps,  and  the  door  of  a  dungeon  was 
opened  and  he  was  thrust  in.  The  door  closed,  and  Dantes 
advanced  with  outstretched  hands  until  he  touched  the 
wall.  He  then  sat  down  in  the  corner  until  his  eyes 
became  accustomed  to  the  darkness.  The  jailer  was  right; 
Dantes  wanted  but  little  of  being  utterly  mad. 


CHAPTER  IX. 

THE   EVENING   OF  THE    BETROTHAL. 

VILLEFORT  had,  as  we  have  said,  hastened  back  to  the 
Place  du  Grand  Cours,  and  on  entering  the  house  found 
all  the  guests  in  the  salon  at  coffee.  Renee  was,  with  all 
the  rest  of  the  company,  anxiously  awaiting  him,  and  his 
entrance  was  followed  by  a  general  exclamation. 

"Well,  decapitator,  guardian  of  the  state,  Brutus,  what 
is  the  matter?"  said  one. 

"Are  we  threatened  with  a  fresh  reign  of  terror?"  asked 
another. 

"  Has  the  Corsican  ogre  broke  loose?"  cried  a  third. 

"Mme.  la  Marquise,"  said  Villefort,  approaching  his 
future  mother-in-law,  "I  request  your  pardon  for  thus 
leaving  you.  M.  le  Marquis,  honor  me  by  a  few  moments' 
private  conversation." 

"Ah!  this  affair  is  really  serious,  then?"  asked  the 
marquis,  remarking  the  cloud  on  Villefort's  brow. 

"  So  serious  that  I  must  take  leave  of  you  for  a  few 
days;  so,"  added  he,  turning  to  Renee,  "  judge  for  your- 
self if  it  be  not  important." 

"You  are  going  to  leave  us?"  cried  Renee,  unable  to 
hide  her  emotion. 

"Alas!"  returned  Villefort,  "I  must." 

"Where,  then,  are  you  going?"  asked  the  marquise. 

"That,  madame,  is  the  secret  of  justice;  but  if  you 
have  any  commissions  for  Paris,  a  friend  of  mine  is  going 
there  to-night." 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CBI8TO.  79 

The  guests  looked  at  each  other. 

"You  wish  to  speak  to  me  alone?"  said  the  marquis. 

"Yes,  let  us  go  into  your  cabinet." 

The  marquis  took  his  arm  and  left  the  salon. 

"Well,"  asked  he,  as  soon  as  they  were  in  his  closet, 
"tell  me,  what  is  it?" 

"An  affair  of  the  greatest  importance,  that  demands  my 
immediate  presence  in  Paris.  Now,  excuse  the  indiscre- 
tion, marquis,  but  have  you  any  funded  property?" 

"All  my  fortune  is  in  the  funds— 700,000  or  800,000 
francs." 

"Then  sell  out — sell  out,  marquis,  as  soon  as  vou 
can." 

"Eh!  how  can  I  sell  out  here?" 

"You  have  a  broker,  have  you  not?" 

"Yes." 

"  Then  give  me  a  letter  to  him,  and  tell  him  to  sell  out 
without  an  instant's  delay,  perhaps  even  now  I  shall  arrive 
too  late." 

"What  say  you?"  said  the  marquis;  "let  us  lose  no  time, 
then." 

And,  sitting  down,  he  wrote  a  letter  to  his  broker,  order- 
ing him  to  sell  out  at  any  loss. 

"Now,  then,"  said  Villefort,  placing  the  letter  in  his 
pocket-book,  "write  another." 

"To  whom?" 

"To  the  king." 

"I  dare  not  write  to  his  majesty." 

"  I  do  not  ask  you  to  write  to  his  majesty,  but  ask  M.  de 
Salvieux  to  do  so.  I  want  a  letter  that  will  enable  me  to 
reach  the  king's  presence  without  all  the  formalities  of 
demanding  an  audience.  That  would  occasion  a  loss  of 
time. " 

"  But  address  yourself  to  the  keeper  of  the  seals;  he 
has  the  right  of  entry  and  can  procure  you  audience." 

"  Doubtless,  but  there  is  no  occasion  to  divide  the  merit 
of  my  discovery  with  him.  The  keeper  would  leave  me 
in  the  background  and  take  all  the  honor  to  himself.  I 
tell  you,  marquis,  my  fortune  is  made  if  I  only  reach  the 
Tuileries  the  first,  for  the  king  will  not  forget  the  service 
I  do  him." 

"In  that  case  make  your  preparations  and  I  will  write 
the  letter." 


80  THE  00  UNT  OF  MONTE  VRI8TO. 

"  Be  as  quick  as  possible;  I  must  be  en  route  in  a  quarter 
of  an  hour." 

"  Make  your  carriage  stop  at  the  door." 

"You  will  present  my  excuses  to  the  marquise  and 
Mdlle.  Benee,  whom  I  leave  on  such  a  day  with  great 
regret." 

"  They  are  both  in  my  room.  You  can  say  all  this  for 
yourself." 

"A  thousand  thanks — busy  yourself  with  the  letter." 

The  marquis  rang;  a  servant  entered. 

"Inform  the  Count  de  Salvieux  I  am  waiting  for  him." 

"Now,  then,  go!"  said  the  marquis. 

"  I  only  go  for  a  few  moments." 

Villefort  hastily  quitted  the  apartment,  but,  reflecting 
that  the  sight  of  the  deputy  procureur  running  through 
the  streets  would  be  enough  to  throw  the  whole  city  into 
confusion,  he  resumed  his  ordinary  pace.  At  his  door  he 
perceived  a  figure  in  the  shadow  that  seemed  to  wait  for 
him.  It  was  Mercedes,  who,  hearing  no  news  of  her  lover, 
had  come  herself  to  inquire  after  him.  As  Villefort  drew 
near  she  advanced  and  stood  before  him.  Dant£s  had 
spoken  of  his  bride,  and  Villefort  instantly  recognized  her. 
Her  beauty  and  high  bearing  surprised  him,  and  when 
ehe  inquired  what  had  become  of  her  lover  it  seemed  to 
him  that  she  was  the  judge  and  he  the  accused. 

"  The  young  man  you  speakof,  "  said  Villefort,  abruptly, 
"is  a  great  criminal  and  I  can  do  nothing  for  him, 
mademoiselle." 

Mercedes  burst  into  tears,  and,  as  Villefort  strove  to 
pass  her,  again  addressed  him. 

"But,  at  least,  tell  me  where  he  is,  that  I  may  learn  if 
he  is  alive  or  dead,"  said  she. 

"I  do  not  know.  He  is  no  longer  in  my  hands,"  replied 
Villefort. 

And,  desirous  of  putting  an  end  to  the  interview,  he 
pushed  by  her  and  closed  the  door,  as  if  to  exclude  the 
pain  he  felt.  But  remorse  is  not  thus  banished;  like  the 
wounded  hero  of  Virgil,  the  arrow  remained  in  the  wound, 
and,  arriving  at  the  salon,  Villefort,  in  his  turn,  burst  into 
tears  and  sank  into  a  chair. 

The  man  he  had  sacrificed  to  his  ambition,  that  innocent 
victim  he  made  pay  the  penalty  of  his  father's  faults, 
appeared  to  him  pale  and  threatening,  leading  his  affianced 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO.  81 

bride  by  the  hand  and  bringing  with  him  remorse,  not 
such  as  the  ancients  figured,  furious  and  terrible,  but  that 
Blow  and  consuming  agony  whose  pangs  cease  only  with 
life.  Then  he  had  a  moment's  hesitation.  He  had  fre- 
quently called  for  capital  punishment  on  criminals,  and 
owing  to  his  irresistible  eloquence  they  had  been  con- 
demned, and  yet  the  slightest  shadow  of  remorse  had 
never  clouded  Villefort's  brow,  because  they  were  guilty — 
at  least,  he  believed  so;  but  here  was  an  innocent  man 
whose  happiness  he  had  destroyed.  In  this  case  he  was 
not  the  judge,  but  the  executioner. 

As  he  thus  reflected  he  felt  the  sensation  we  have  de- 
scribed, and  which  had  hitherto  been  unknown  to  him, 
arise  in  his  bosom,  and  fill  him  vith  vague  apprehensions. 
It  is  thus  that  a  wounded  man  trembles  instinctively  at 
the  approach  of  the  finger  to  his  wound  until  it  be  healed ; 
but  Villefort's  was  one  of  those  that  never  close,  or  if  they 
do,  only  close  to  re-open  more  agonizing  than  ever.  If  at 
this  moment  the  sweet  voice  of  Eenee  had  sounded  in  his 
ears  pleading  for  mercy,  or  the  fair  Mercedes  had  entered 
and  said,  "In  the  name  of  God,  I  conjure  you  to  restore 
me  my  affianced  husband,"  his  cold  and  trembling  hands 
would  have  signed  his  release ;  but  no  voice  broke  the  still- 
ness of  the  chamber. 

Villefort  rose,  or  rather  sprang,  from  his  chair,  hastily 
opened  one  of  the  drawers  of  his  secretaire,  emptied  all 
the  gold  it  contained  into  his  pocket,  stood  motionless  an 
instant,  his  hand  pressed  to  his  head,  muttered  a  few  in- 
articulate sounds;  and,  then  perceiving  his  servant  had 
placed  his  cloak  on  his  shoulders,  he  sprang  into  the  car- 
riage, ordering  the  postilions  to  go  to  the  Hue  du  Grand 
Cours,  to  the  house  of  M.  de  Saint-Meran. 

As  the  marquis  had  promised,  Villefort  found  the  letter. 
He  started  when  he  saw  Renee,  for  he  fancied  she  was 
again  about  to  plead  for  Dantes.  Alas !  she  was  thinking 
only  of  Villefort's  departure. 

She  loved  Villefort,  and  he  left  her  at  the  moment  he 
was  about  to  become  her  husband.  Villefort  knew  not 
when  he  should  return,  and  Eenee,  far  from  pleading  for 
Dantes,  hated  the  man  whose  crime  separated  her  from 
her  lover.  What  had  Mercedes  to  say? 


82  THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CBI8TO, 

Mercedes  had  met  Fernand  at  the  corner  of  the  Rue  de 
la  Loge;  she  had  returned  to  the  Catalans,  and  had  de- 
spairingly cast  herself  on  her  couch.  Fernand,  kneeling 
by  her  side,  took  her  hand,  and  covered  it  with  kisses  that 
Mercedes  did  not  even  feel.  She  passed  the  night  thus, 
and  the  day  returned  without  her  noticing  it.  Grief  had 
made  her  blind  to  all  but  one  object — that  was  Edmond. 

"  Ah  !  you  are  there/'  said  she,  at  length. 

"  I  have  not  quitted  you  since  yesterday/'  returned  Fer- 
nand, sorrowfully. 

M.  Morrel  had  learned  that  Dante s  had  been  conducted 
to  prison,  and  he  had  gone  to  all  his  friends,  and  the  in- 
fluential persons  of  the  city;  but  the  report  was  already  in 
circulation  that  Dautes  was  arrested  as  a  Bonapartist 
agent;  and,  as  the  most  sanguine  looked  upon  any  attempt 
of  Napoleon  to  remount  the  throne  as  impossible,  he  met 
with  nothing  but  refusal,  and  had  returned  home  in 
despair. 

Caderousse  was  equally  restless  and  uneasy;  but,  instead 
of  seeking  to  aid  Dantes,  he  had  shut  himself  up  with  two 
bottles  of  wine  in  the  hope  of  drowning  reflection.  But 
he  did  not  succeed,  and  became  too  intoxicated  to  fetch 
any  more  wine,  and  yet  not  so  intoxicated  as  to  forget 
what  had  happened. 

Danglars  alone  was  content  and  joyous — he  had  got  rid 
of  an  enemy  and  preserved  his  situation  on  board  the  Pha- 
raon.  Danglars  was  one  of  those  men  born  with  a  pen 
behind  the  ear,  and  an  inkstand  in  place  of  a  heart.  Every- 
thing with  him  was  multiplication  or  subtraction,  and  he 
estimated  the  life  of  a  man  as  less  precious  than  a  figure, 
when  that  figure  could  increase,  and  that  life  would  di- 
minish, the  total  of  the  amount. 

Villefort,  after  having  received  M.  de  Salvieux'  letter, 
embraced  Renee,  kissed  the  marquise's  hand,  and  shaken 
hands  with  the  marquis,  started  for  Paris.  Old  Dantes 
was  dying  with  anxiety  to  know  what  had  become  of  Ed- 
mond. 


THE  00  UNT  OF  MONTE  CRI8TO.  83 

CHAPTER  X. 

THE   SMALL  CABINET  OF  THE  TUILERIE8. 

WE  WILL  leave  Villefort  on  the  road  to  Paris,  traveling 
with  all  speed,  and  penetrating  the  two  or  three  apart- 
ments which  precede  it,  enter  the  small  cabinet  of  the 
Tuileries  with  the  arched  window,  so  well  known  as  hav- 
ing been  the  favorite  cabinet  of  Napoleon  and  Louis 
XVIII,  as  also  that  of  Louis  Philippe. 

There,  in  this  closet,  seated  before  a  walnut-tree  table 
he  had  brought  with  him  from  Hartwell,  and  to  which, 
from  one  of  those  fancies  not  uncommon  to  great  people, 
he  was  particularly  attached,  the  king,  Louis  XVIII,  was 
carelessly  listening  to  a  man  of  50  or  52  years  of  age,  with 
gray  hairs,  aristocratic  bearing,  and  exceedingly  gentle- 
manly attire,  while  he  was  making  a  note  in  a  volume  of 
"Horace,"  Gryphius'  edition,  which  was  much  indebted  to 
the  sagacious  observations  of  the  philosophical  mon- 
arch. 

"  You  say,  sir "  said  the  king. 

"  That  I  am  exceedingly  disquieted,  sire." 

"  Really,  have  you  had  a  visit  of  the  seven  fat  kine  and 
seven  lean  kine?" 

"  No,  sire,  for  that  would  only  betoken  for  us  seven 
years  of  plenty  and  seven  years  of  scarcity;  and  with  a 
king  as  full  of  foresight  as  your  majesty,  scarcity  is  not  a 
thing  to  be  feared." 

"  Then  of  what  other  scourge  are  you  afraid,  my  dear 
Blacas?'" 

"  Sire,  I  have  every  reason  to  believe  that  a  storm  is 
brewing  in  the  south." 

"  Well,  my  dear  duke,"  replied  Louis  XVIII,  "I think 
you  are  wrongly  informed,  and  know  positively  that,  on 
the  contrary,  it  is  very  fine  weather  in  that  direction." 
Man  of  ability  as  he  was,  Louis  XVIII  liked  a  pleasant 
jest. 

"  Sire,"  continued  M.  de  Blacas,  "  if  it  only  be  to  re- 
assure a  faithful  servant,  will  your  majesty  send  into  Lan- 
quedoc,  Provence  and  Dauphin^,  trusty  men,  who  will 
bring  you  back  a  faitlif nl  report  as  to  the  feeling  in  these 
three  provinces?" 


84  THE  CO  UNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO. 

"  Canimus  surdis,' '  replied  the  king,  continuing  the 
annotations  in  his  "  Horace." 

"  Sire,"  replied  the  courtier,  laughing,  in  order  that  he 
might  seem  to  comprehend  the  quotation,  "your  majesty 
may  be  perfectly  right  in  relying  on  the  good  feeling  of 
France,  but  I  fear  I  am  not  altogether  wrong  in  dreading 
some  desperate  attempt." 

"  By  whom?" 

"  By  Bonaparte;  or,  at  least,  his  party/* 

"  My  dear  Blacas,"  said  the  king,  "you  with  your 
alarms  prevent  me  from  working." 

"  And  you,  sire,  prevent  me  from  sleeping,  with  your 
security." 

"  Wait,  my  dear  sir,  wait  a  moment;  for  I  have  such  a 
delightful  note  on  the  Pastor  quum  traheret — wait,  and  I 
will  listen  to  you  afterward." 

There  was  a  brief  pause,  during  which  Louis  XVIII 
wrote,  in  a  hand  as  small  as  possible,  another  note  on  the 
margin  of  his  "  Horace,"  and  then,  looking  at  the  duke  with 
the  air  of  a  man  who  thinks  he  has  an  idea  of  his  own, 
while  he  is  but  commenting  upon  the  idea  of  another,  he 
said: 

"  Go  on,  my  dear  duke,  go  on — I  listen." 

"  Sire,"  said  Blacas,  who  had  for  a  moment  the  hope  of 
sacrificing  Villefort  to  his  own  profit,  "  I  am  compelled  to 
tell  you  that  these  are  not  mere  rumors,  destitute  of  foun- 
dation, which  thus  disquiet  me;  but  a  reflective  man,  de- 
serving all  my  confidence,  and  charged  by  me  to  watch 
over  the  south  "  (the  duke  hesitated  as  he  pronounced  these 
words)  "  has  arrived  post  to  tell  me  that  a  great  peril 
threatens  the  king,  and  then  I  hastened  to  you,  sire." 

"  Mala  duds  am  domum,"  continued  Louis  XVIII, 
still  annotating. 

"  Does  your  majesty  wish  me  to  cease  as  to  this  sub- 
ject?" 

"By  no  means,  dear  duke;  but  just  stretch  out  your 
hand." 

"  Which?" 

"  Whichever  you  please — there,  to  the  left." 

"  Here,  sire?" 

"I  tell  you  to  the  left,  and  you  seek  the  right;  I  mean 
on  my  right — yes,  there.  You  will  find  the  report  of  the 
minister  of  police  of  yesterday.  But  here  is  M.  Dandre 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  GRIBTO.  85 

himself;"  and  M,  Dandre,  announced  by  the  chamberlain- 
in-waiting,  entered. 

"  Come  in,"  said  Louis  XVIII,  with  an  imperceptible 
smile,  "  come  in,  baron,  and  tell  the  duke  all  you  know — 
the  latest  news  of  M.  de  Bonaparte;  do  not  conceal  any- 
thing, however  serious — let  us  see,  the  Island  of  Elba  is  a 
volcano,  and  we  may  expect  to  have  issuing  thence  flaming 
and  bristling  war — bella,  horrida  bella." 

M.  Dandre  leaned  very  respectfully  on  the  back  of  a 
chair  with  his  two  hands  and  said: 

"  Has  your  majesty  perused  yesterday's  report?" 

"  Yes,  yes;  but  tell  the  count  himself — who  cannot  find 
anything — what  the  report  contains;  give  him  the  particu- 
lars of  what  the  usurper  is  doing  on  his  islet." 

"Monsieur,"  said  the  baron  to  the  count,  "all  the 
servants  of  his  majesty  must  approve  of  the  latest  intelli- 
gence which  we  have  from  the  Island  of  Elba.  Bona- 
parte  " 

M.  Dandre  looked  at  Louis  XVIII,  who,  employed  in 
writing  a  note,  did  not  even  raise  his  head. 

"  Bonaparte,"  continued  the  baron,  "is  mortally  wearied 
and  passes  whole  days  in  watching  his  miners  at  work  at 
Porto-Longone. " 

"And  scratches  himself  for  amusement,"  added  the 
king. 

"  Scratches  himself?"  inquired  the  count;  "  what  does 
your  majesty  mean?" 

"  Yes,  indeed,  my  dear  count.  Did  you  forget  that  this 
great  man,  this  hero,  this  demigod,  is  attacked  with  a 
malady  of  the  skin  which  worries  him  to  death,  prurigo?" 

"  And,  moreover,  M.  le  Comte,"  continued  the  minister 
of  police,  "  we  are  almost  assured  that,  in  a  very  short 
time,  the  usurper  will  be  insane." 

"  Insane?" 

"  Insane  to  a  degree;  his  head  becomes  weaker,  Some- 
times he  weeps  bitterly,  sometimes  laughs  boisterously;  at 
other  times  he  passes  hours  on  the  sea-shore,  flinging  stones 
in  the  water,  and  when  the  flint  makes  *  duck-and-drake  f 
five  or  six  times,  he  appears  as  delighted  as  if  he  had  gained 
another  Marengo  or  Austerlitz.  Now,  you  must  agree, 
these  are  indubitable  symptons  of  weakness?" 

"  Or  of  wisdom,  M.  le  Baron— or  of  wisdom,"  said  Louis 
laughing;  "  the  greatest  captains  of  antiquity 


86  TEE  CO  UNT  OF  MONTE  CRI8TO. 

recreated  themselves  with  casting  pebbles  into  the  ocean; 
see  Plutarch's  '  Life  of  Scipio  Af ricanus, ' " 

M.  de  Blacas  pondered  deeply  on  this  blind  repose  of 
monarch  and  minister.  Villefort,  who  did  not  choose  to 
reveal  the  whole  secret,  lest  another  should  reap  all  the 
benefit  of  the  disclosure,  had  yet  communicated  enough  to 
cause  him  the  greatest  uneasiness. 

"Well,  well,  Dandre,"  said  Louis  XVIII,  "Blacas  is 
not  yet  convinced;  let  us  proceed,  therefore,  to  the  usurp- 
er's conversion." 

The  minister  of  police  bowed. 

"  The  usurper's  conversion!"  murmured  the  count,  look- 
ing at  the  king  and  Dandr6,  who  spoke  alternately,  like 
Virgil's  shepherds.  "  The  usurper  converted!" 

"  Decidedly,  my  dear  count." 

"  In  what  way  converted?" 

"  To  good  principles.     Explain  all  about  it,  oaron;" 

"  Why,  this  it  is,  M.  le  Comte,"  said  the  minister,  with 
the  gravest  air  in  the  world:  "  Napoleon  lately  had  a  re- 
view, and,  as  two  or  three  of  his  old  veterans  testified  a 
desire  to  return  to  France,  he  gave  them  their  dismissal, 
and  exhorted  them  to  '  serve  the  good  king.'  These  were 
his  own  words,  M.  le  Comte,  I  am  certain  of  that." 

"Well,  Blacas,  what  think  you  of  this?"  inquired  the 
king,  triumphantly,  and  pausing  for  a  moment  from  the 
voluminous  scholiast  before  him. 

"  I  say,  sire,  that  M.  the  Minister  of  Police  or  I  am 
greatly  deceived;  and,  as  it  is  impossible  it  can  be  the  min- 
ister of  police,  as  he  has  the  guardianship  of  the  safety  and 
honor  of  your  majesty,  it  is  probable  I  am  in  error.  How- 
ever, sire,  if  I  might  advise  you,  your  majesty  will  interro- 
gate the  person  of  whom  I  spoke  to  you,  and  I  will  urge 
your  majesty  to  do  him  this  honor." 

"  Most  willingly,  count;  under  your  auspices  I  will  re- 
ceive any  person  you  please,  but  with  arms  in  hand.  M.  le 
Ministre,  have  you  any  report  more  recent  than  this,  dated 
the  20th  of  February,  and  this  is  the  4th  of  March?" 

"  No,  sire,  but  I  am  hourly  expecting  one;  it  may  have 
arrived  since  I  left  my  office." 

"  Go  thither,  and  if  there  be  none—well,  well,"  con- 
tinned  Louis  XVIII,  "  make  one;  that  is  the  usual  way,  is 
it  not?"  and  the  king  laughed  facetiously. 

"  Oh,  sire,"  replied  the  minister,  "  we  have  no  occasion 


THE  GO  UNT  OF  MONTE  CRI8TO.  8? 

T^  day.°ur  desks  are  loaded  with  most 
denunciations  coming  from  crowds  of  in- 
dividuals  who  hope  for  some  return  for  services  which  i 
seek  to  render,  but  cannot;  they  trust  totaS 

event  ^  *•  a  kind 


a*d  rememberthat 
minutet"  ^  g°  and  Wtani'  8ire;  l  sha11  be  back  in  ten 

me^erV^"  ""  M"  de  Bhca*  "  ^  go  and  ***  my 
"Wait,  sir  wait,"  said  Louis  XVIII.     "Really  M  de 
Blacas,  I  must  change  your  armorial  bearings;  I  will  give 
ou  an 


ngs; 
you  an  eagle  with  outstretched  wings  holdinf  n  itc  awa 

-'  JJto£'  *ne8  m  Vam  to  eSCape^  and  beariQg  this  dev?ce 


his  nail« 


"I  wish  to  consult  you  on  this  passage—  <  Motti  fuoiei 
anhehtu;'  you  know  it  refers  to  a  stag  flying  from  a  wolf 


"Which  is  undergoing  great  fatigue  and  anx 

Which 


your  majesty  useful  information.     If  only  for  the  ^ke^o? 
M.  D.  Salvieux,  who  recommends  him  to  me 
your  majesty  to  receive  him  graciously.- 

M.  de  Salvieux,  my  brother's  chamberlain  ?" 
Yes,  sire." 

'He  is  at  Marseilles." 
'And  writes  me  thence." 
•Does  he  ^  speak  to  you  of  this  conspiracy?" 
Ao    but  strongly  recommends  M.  de  Villefort    and 
bim  to  y°ur  majesty." 

-ssenger's 


88  THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRI8TO. 

"  Yes,  sire." 

"And  he  comes  from  Marseilles?" 

"In  person." 

"Why  did  you  not  mention  his  name  at  once?"  re- 
plied the  king,  betraying  some  uneasiness. 

"  Sire,  I  thought  his  name  ^as  unknown  to  your 
majesty." 

"  No,  no,  Blacas ;  he  78  a  man  of  strong  and  elevated 
understanding,  ambitious,  too,  &nd—pardieu!  you  know 
his  father's  name  I" 

"His  father?" 

"Yes,  Noirtier." 

"Noirtier,  the  Girondin?    Noirtier,  the  senator  V 

"He  himself." 

"And  your  majesty  has  employed  the  son  of  such  a 
man?" 

' *  Blacas,  my  friend,  you  have  but  limited  comprehension. 
I  told  you  Villefort  was  ambitious,  and  to  attain  this  am- 
bition Villefort  would  sacrifice  everything,  even  his 
father." 

"  Then,  sire;  may  I  present  him?" 

"  This  instant,  count !     Where  is  he?" 

"  Waiting  below,  in  my  carriage." 

"Seek  him  at  once." 

"I  hasten  to  do  so." 

The  count  left  the  royal  presence  with  the  speed  of  a 
young  man ;  his  really  sincere  royalisni  made  him  youthful 
again.  Louis  XVIII  remained  alone,  and,  turning  his 
eyes  on  his  half -opened  "  Horace,"  muttered  :  "  Fustum  et 
tenacem  propositi  virum." 

M.  de  Blacas  returned  with  the  same  rapidity  he  had 
descended,  but  in  the  ante-chamber  he  was  forced  to  appeal 
to  the  king's  authority.  Villefort's  dusty  garb,  his  cos- 
tume, which  was  not  of  courtly  cut,  excited  the  suscepti- 
bility of  M.  de  Breze,  who  was  all  astonishment  at  finding 
that  this  young  man  had  the  pretension  to  enter  before  the 
king  in  such  attire.  The  count,  however,  superseded  all 
difficulties  with  a  word — his  majesty's  order  ;  and,  in  spite 
of  the  observations  which  the  master  of  ceremonies  made 
for  the  heffior  of  his  office  and  principles,  Villefort  was  in- 
troduced. 

The  king  was  seated  in  the  same  place  where  the  count 
had  left  him.  On  opening  the  door,  Villefort  found  him- 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRI8TO.  89 

self  facing  him,  and  the  young  magistrate's  first  impulse 
was  to  pause. 

"Come  in,  M.  de  Villefort,"  said  the  king,  "come 
in." 

Villefort  bowed,  and,  advancing  a  few  steps,  waited  until 
the  king  should  interrogate  him. 

"M.  de  Villefort,"  said  Louis  XVIII,  "the  Count  de 
Blacas  assures  me  you  have  some  interesting  information 
to  communicate." 

"Sire,  the  count  is  right,  and  I  believe  your  majesty 
will  think  it  equally  important." 

"In  the  first  place,  and  before  everything  else,  sir,  is 
the  bad  news  as  great  in  your  opinion  as  it  is  wished  to 
make  me  believe? 

"  Sire,  I  believe  it  to  be  most  urgent,  but  I  hope,  by  the 
speed  I  have  used,  that  it  is  not  irreparable." 

"  Speak  as  fully  as  you  please,  sir,"  said  the  king,  who 
began  to  give  way  to  the  emotion  which  had  showed  itself 
in  Blaca's  face  and  affected  Villefort's  voice.  "  Speak, 
sir,  and  pray  begin  at  the  beginning ;  I  like  order  in  every- 
thing." 

"  Sire,"  said  Villefort,  "  I  will  render  a  faithful  report 
to  your  majesty,  but  I  must  entreat  your  forgiveness  if  my 
anxiety  creates  some  obscurity  in  my  language. ' 

A  glance  at  the  king  after  this  discreet  and  subtle  exor- 
dium assured  Villefort  of  the  benignity  of  his  august 
auditor,  and  he  continued  : 

"  Sire,  I  have  come  as  rapidly  to  Paris  as  possible,  to  in- 
form your  majesty  that  I  have  discovered,  in  the  exercise 
of  my  duties,  not  a  commonplace  and  insignificant  plot, 
such  as  is  every  day  got  up  in  the  lower  ranks  of  the  people 
and  in  the  army,  but  an  actual  conspiracy — a  storm  which 
menaces  no  less  than  the  throne  of  your  majesty.  Sire, 
the  usurper  is  arming  three  ships  ;  he  meditates  some  proj- 
ect, which,  however  mad,  is  yet,  perhaps,  terrible.  At 
this  moment  he  will  have  left  Elba,  to  go  whither  I  know 
not,  but  assuredly  to  attempt  a  landing  either  at  Naples, 
or  on  the  coast  of  Tuscany,  or  perhaps  on  the  shore  of 
France.  Your  majesty  is  well  aware  that  the  sovereign  of 
the  Isle  of  Elba  has  maintained  his  relations  with  Italy  and 
France?" 

"  I  am,  sir,"  said  the  king,  much  agitated  ;  "  and  re- 
cently we  have  had  information  that  the  Bonapartist  cluba 


90  THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRI8TO. 

have  had  meetings  in  the  Rue  Saint-Jacques.  But  pro- 
ceed, I  beg  of  you.  How  did  you  obtain  these  details?" 

"  Sire,  they  are  the  results  of  an  examination  which  I 
have  made  of  a  man  of  Marseilles,  whom  I  have  watched 
for  some  time,  and  arrested  on  the  day  of  my  departure. 
This  person,  a  sailor,  of  turbulent  character,  and  whom  I 
suspected  of  Bonapartism,  has  been  secretely  to  the  Isle  of 
Elba.  There  he  saw  the  grand  marshal,  who  charged  him 
with  a  verbal  mission  to  a  Bonapartist  in  Paris,  whose  name 
1  could  not  extract  from  him ;  but  this  mission  was  to  pre- 
pare men's  minds  for  a  return  (it  is  the  man  who  says  this, 
sire) — a  return  which  will  soon  occur." 

"And  where  is  this  man?" 

"In  prison,  sire." 

"And  the  matter  seems  serious  to  you?" 

"  So  serious,  sire,  that  when  the  circumstance  surprised 
me  in  the  midst  of  a  family  festival,  on  the  very  day  of  my 
betrothal,  I  left  my  bride  and  friends,  postponing  every- 
thing, that  I  might  hasten  to  lay  at  your  majesty's  feet  the 
fears  which  impressed  me  and  the  assurance  of  my  de- 
votion." 

"  True,"  said  Louis  XVIII,  "  was  there  not  a  marriage 
engagement  between  you  and  Mdlle.  de  Saint-Meran?" 

"  Daughter  of  one  of  your  majesty's  most  faithful  serv- 
ants." 

"  Yes,  ves ;  but  let  us  talk  of  this  plot,  M.  de  Villefort." 

"  Sire,  I  fear  it  is  more  than  a  plot ;  I  fear  it  is  a  con- 
spiracy." 

"A  conspiracy  in  these  times,"  said  Louis  XVIII,  smil- 
ing, "  is  a  thing  very  easy  to  meditate,  but  more  difficult 
to  conduct  to  an  end ;  inasmuch  as,  re-established  so 
recently  on  the  throne  of  our  ancestors,  we  have 
our  eyes  open  at  once  upon  the  past,  the  present,  and 
the  future.  For  the  last  ten  months  my  ministers  have 
redoubled  their  vigilance,  in  order  to  watch  the  shores  of 
the  Mediterranean.  If  Bonaparte  landed  at  Naples,  the 
whole  coalition  would  be  on  foot  before  he  could  even  reach 
Piombino ;  if  he  land  in  Tuscany,  he  will  be  in  an  un- 
friendly territory ;  if  he  land  in  France,  it  must  be  with  a 
handful  of  men,  and  the  result  of  that  is  easily  foretold, 
execrated  as  he  is  by  the  population.  Take  courage,  sir ; 
but  at  the  same  time  rely  on  our  loyal  gratitude." 

"Ah,  here  is  M.  Dandre  !"  cried  de  Blacas. 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO.  9] 

At  this  instant  the  minister  of  police  appeared  at  the 
door,  pale,  trembling,  and  as  if  ready  to  faint.  Villefort 
was  about  to  retire,  but  M.  de  Blacas,  taking  his  hand, 
restrained  him. 


CHAPTER  XL 

THE   OGRE   OF   CORSICA. 

AT  THE  sight  of  this  agitation,  Louis  XVIII  pushed 
from  him  violently  the  table  at  which  he  was  writing. 

"What  ails  you,  M.  le  Baron  ?"  he  exclaimed.  "You 
appear  quite  aghast.  This  trouble — this  hesitation — have 
they  anything  to  do  with  what  M.  de  Blacas  has  told  me 
and  M.  de  Villefort  has  just  confirmed?" 

M.  de  Blacas  moved  suddenly  toward  the  "baron,  but  the 
fright  of  the  courtier  precluded  the  triumph  of  the  states- 
man; and,  besides,  as  matters  were,  it  was  much  more  to 
his  advantage  that  the  prefect  of  police  should  triumph 
over  him  than  that  he  should  humiliate  the  prefect. 

"  Sire "  stammered  the  baron. 

"Well,  what  is  it?"  asked  Louis  XVIII. 

The  minister  of  police,  giving  way  to  an  impulse  of 
despair,  was  about  to  throw  himself  at  the  feet  of  Louis 
XVIII,  who  retreated  a  step  and  frowned. 

"Will  you  speak?"  he  said. 

"Oh!  sire,  what  a  dreadful  misfortune!  I  am,  indeed, 
to  be  pitied.  I  can  never  forgive  myself." 

Monsieur,"  said  Louis  XVIII,  "I  command  you  to 


"Well,  sire,  the  usurper  left  Elba  on  the  26th  of 
February  and  landed  on  the  1st  of  March." 

"And  where?    In  Italy?"  asked  the  king,  eagerly. 

"In  France,  sire; "at  a  small  port  near  Antibes,  in  the 
Gulf  of  Juan." 

"  The  usurper  landed  in  France,  near  Antibes,  in  the 
Gulf  of  Juan,  250  leagues  from  Paris,  on  the  1st  of 
March,  and  you  only  acquired  this  information  to-day,  the 
4th  of  March.  Well,  sir,  what  you  tell  me  is  impossible. 
You  must  have  received  a  false  report,  or  you  have  gone 
mad." 

"Alas!  sire,  it  is  but  too  true." 


92  THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRI8TO. 

Louis  made  a  gesture  of  indescribable  anger  and  alarm, 
and  then  drew  himself  up  as  if  this  sudden  blow  had 
gtruck  him  at  the  same  moment  in  heart  and  countenance. 

"In  France!"  he  cried,  "the  usurper  in  France!  Then 
they  did  not  watch  over  this  man.  Who  knows?  They 
were,  perhaps,  in  league  with  him." 

"Oh,  sire!"  exclaimed  the  Comte  de  Blacas,  "M. 
Dandr6  is  not  a  man  to  be  accused  of  treason.  Sire,  we 
h^ve  all  been  blind,  and  the  minister  of  police  has  shared 
the  general  blindness,  that  is  all." 

"  But "  said  Villefort,  and  then,  suddenly  checking 

himself,  he  was  silent;  then  he  continued:  "Your  pardon, 
sire,"  he  said,  bowing:  "my  zeal  carried  me  away.  Will 
your  majesty  deign  to  excuse  me?" 

"  Speak,  sir,  speak  boldly,"  replied  Louis.  "You  alone 
forewarned  us  of  the  evil;  now  try  and  aid  us  with  the 
remedy." 

"  Sire,"  said  Villefort,  "  the  usurper  is  detested  in  the 
south;  and  it  seems  to  me  that  if  he  ventured  into  the 
south,  it  would  be  easy  to  raise  Languedoc  and  Provence 
against  him." 

"Yes,  assuredly,"  replied  the  minister;  "but  he  is 
advancing  by  Gap  and  Sisteron." 

"Advancing!  he  is  advancing!"  said  Louis  XVIII.  " Is 
he  then  advancing  on  Paris?" 

The  minister  of  police  kept  a  silence  which  was  equiva- 
lent to  a  complete  avowal. 

"And  Dauphine,  sir?"  inquired  the  king  of  Villefort. 
"Do  you  think  it  possible  to  rouse  that  as  well  as 
Provence?" 

"  Sire,  I  am  sorry  to  tell  your  majesty  a  cruel  fact,  but 
the  feeling  in  Dauphine  is  far  from  resembling  that  of 
Provence  or  Languedoc.  The  mountaineers  are  Bona- 
partists,  sire." 

"Then,"  murmured  Louis,  "he  was  well  informed. 
And  how  many  men  had  he  with  him?" 

"I  do  not  know,  sire,"  answered  the  minister  of  police. 

"What!  you  do  not  know?  Have  you  neglected  to 
obtain  information  of  this  circumstance?  It  is  true  this  is 
of  small  importance,"  he  added,  with  a  withering  smile. 

"Sire,  it  was  impossible  to  learn;  the  dispatch  simply 
stated  the  fact  of  the  landing  and  the  route  taken  by  the 
usurper." 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CR1STO,  93 

"And  how  did  this  dispatch  reach  you?"  inquired  the 
king. 

The  minister  bowed  his  head,  and,  while  a  deep  color 
overspread  his  cheeks,  he  stammered  out: 

"By  the  telegraph,  sire." 

Louis  XVIII  advanced  a  step  and  folded  his  arms  over 
his  chest  as  Napoleon  would  have  done. 

"So,  then!"  he  exclaimed,  turning  pale  with  anger, 
"  seven  conjoined  and  allied  armies  overthrew  that  man. 
A  miracle  of  heaven  replaced  me  on  the  throne  of  my 
fathers  after  five-and-twenty  years  of  exile.  I  have, 
during  those  five-and-twenty  years,  studied,  sounded, 
analyzed  the  men  and  things  of  that  France  which  was 
promised  to  me;  and  when  I  have  attained  the  end  of  all 
my  wishes,  the  power  I  hold  in  my  hand  bursts  and 
shatters  me  to  atoms." 

"Sire,  it  is  fatality!"  murmured  the  minister,  feeling 
that  such  a  pressure,  however  light  for  destiny,  was  suffi- 
cient to  overwhelm  a  man. 

"What  our  enemies  say  of  us  is,  then,  true.  We  have 
learned  nothing,  forgotten  nothing.  If  I  were  betrayed  as 
he  was,  I  would  console  myself;  but  to  be  in  the  midst  of 
persons  elevated  by  myself  to  dignities,  who  ought  to 
watch  over  me  more  preciously  than  over  themselves,  for 
my  fortune  is  theirs!  Before  me  they  were  nothing — after 
me  they  will  be  nothing;  and  perish  miserably  from 
incapacity — inaptitude!  Oh,  yes,  sir,  you  are  right — it  is 
fatality!" 

The  minister  was  bowed  beneath  this  crushing  sarcasm. 
M.  de  Blacas  wiped  the  moisture  from  his  brow.  Villefort 
smiled  within  himself,  for  he  felt  his  increased  importance. 

"To  fall!"  continued  King  Louis,  who  at  the  first  glance 
had  sounded  the  abyss  on  which  the  monarchy  hung  sus- 
pended, "to  fall!  and  to  learn  that  fall  by  telegraph! 
Oh!  I  would  rather  mount  the  scaffold  of  my  brother, 
Louis  XVI,  than  thus  descend  the  staircase  of  the  Tuil- 
eries  driven  away  by  ridicule.  Ridicule,  sir!  Why,  you 
know  not  its  power  in  France,  and  yet  you  ought  to 
know  it." 

"  Sire,  sire,"  murmured  the  minister,  "  for  pity's " 

"Approach,  M.  de  Villefort,"  resumed  the  king,  ad- 
dressing the  young  man,  who,  motionless  and  breathless, 
was  listening  to  a  conversation  on  which  depended  the 

DUMAS — VOL.  I.— ;> 


94  THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRI8TO. 

destiny  of  a  kingdom.  "Approach,  and  tell  monsieur  that 
it  is  possible  to  know  beforehand  all  that  he  has  not 
known." 

"  Sire,  it  was  really  impossible  to  learn  secrets  which 
that  man  concealed  from  all  the  world." 

"Really  impossible!  Yes,  that  is  a  great  word,  sir. 
Unfortunately,  there  are  great  words  as  there  are  great 
men.  I  have  measured  them.  Really  impossible  for  a 
minister  who  has  an  office,  agents,  spies  and  1,500,000  francs 
for  secret-service  money,  to  know  what  is  going  on  at  sixty 
leagues  from  the  coast  of  France!  Well,  then,  see,  here  is 
a  gentleman  who  had  none  of  these  resources  at  his  dis- 
posal— a  gentleman,  only  a  simple  magistrate,  who  learned 
more  than  you  with  all  your  police  and  who  would  have 
saved  my  crown,  if,  like  you,  he  had  the  power  of  direct- 
ing a  telegraph." 

The  look  of  the  minister  of  police  was  turned  with  con- 
centrated spite  on  Villefort,  who  bent  his  head  with  the 
modesty  of  triumph. 

"  I  do  not  mean  that  for  you,  Blacas,"  continued  Louis 
XVIII;  "  for  if  you  have  discovered  nothing,  at  least  you 
have  had  the  good  sense  to  persevere  in  your  suspicions. 
Any  other  than  yourself  would  have  considered  the  dis- 
closure of  M.  de  Villefort  as  insignificant,  or  else  dictated 
by  a  venal  ambition." 

These  words  were  meant  to  allude  to  those  which  the 
minister  of  police  had  uttered  with  so  much  confidence  an 
hour  before. 

Villefort  understood  the  drift  of  the  king.  Any  other 
person  would,  perhaps,  have  been  too  much  overcome  by 
the  intoxication  of  praise;  but  he  feared  to  make  for  him- 
self a  mortal  enemy  of  the  police  minister,  although  he 
perceived  Dandre  was  irrevocably  lost.  In  fact,  the  min- 
ister, who,  in  the  plentitude  of  his  power,  had  been  unable 
to  penetrate  Napoleon's  secret,  might  in  the  convulsions  of 
his  dying  throes  penetrate  his  ( Villefort's)  secret,  for  which 
end  he  had  but  to  interrogate  Dante's.  He,  therefore, 
came  to  the  rescue  of  the  crest-fallen  minister,  instead  of 
aiding  to  crush  him. 

"Sire,"  said  Villefort,  "the  rapidity  of  the  event  must 
prove  to  your  majesty  that  God  alone  can  prevent  it,  by 
raising  a  tempest;  what  your  majesty  is  pleased  to  attrib- 
ute to  me  such  profound  perspicacity  is  simply  owing 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTR  CRISTO.  95 

to  chance ;  and  I  have  profited  by  that  chance,  like  a 
good  and  devoted  servant — that's  all.  Do  not  attribute  to 
me  more  than  I  deserve,  sire,  that  your  majesty  may  never 
have  occasion  to  recall  the  first  opinion  you  have  been 
pleased  to  form  of  me." 

The  minister  of  police  thanked  the  young  man  by  an 
eloquent  look  and  Villefort  understood  that  he  had  suc- 
ceeded in  his  design;  that  is  to  say,  that,  without  forfeit- 
ing the  gratitude  of  the  king,  he  had  made  a  friend  of  one 
on  whom,  in  case  of  necessity,  he  might  rely. 

"'Tis  well!"  resumed  the  king.  "And  now,  gentle- 
men," he  continued,  turning  toward  M.  de  Blacas  and  the 
minister  of  police,  "  I  have  no  further  occasion  for  you, 
and  you  may  retire;  what  now  remains  to  do  is  in  the  de- 
partment of  the  minister  of  war." 

"  Fortunately,  sire,"  said  M.  de  Blacas,  "  we  can  rely 
on  the  army;  your  majesty  knows  how  every  report  con- 
firms their  loyalty  and  attachment." 

"Do  not  mention  reports,  sir,  to  me!  for  I  know  now 
what  confidence  to  place  in  them.  Yet,  a  propos  of  re- 
ports, M.  le  Baron,  what  intelligence  have  you  as  to  our 
affair  in  the  Rue  Saint- Jacques?" 

"  The  affair  in  the  Eue  Saint- Jacques!"  exclaimed  Ville- 
fort, unable  to  repress  the  exclamation.  Then,  suddenly 
pausing,  he  added:  "Your  pardon,  sire,  but  my  devotion 
to  your  majesty  has  made  me  forget,  not  the  respect  I  have, 
for  that  is  too  deeply  engraven  m  my  heart,  but  the  rules 
of  etiquette. " 

"Say  and  act,  sir!"  replied  the  king,  "you  have  acquired 
the  right  to  inquire." 

"Sire,"  replied  the  minister  of  police,  "I  came  this 
moment  to  give  your  majesty  fresh  information  which  I 
had  obtained  on  this  head,  when  your  majesty's  attention 
was  attracted  by  this  terrible  affair  of  the  gulf,  aiid  now 
these  facts  will  cease  to  interest  your  majesty." 

"  On  the  contrary,  sir — on  the  contrary,"  said  Louis 
XVIII,  "  this  affair  seems  to  me  to  have  a  decided  con- 
nection with  that  which  occupies  our  attention;  and  the 
death  of  Gen.  Quesnel  will,  perhaps,  put  us  on  the  direct 
track  of  a  great  internal  conspiracy." 

At  the  name  of  Gen.  Quesnel  Villefort  trembled. 

"All  combines,  sir,"  said  the  minister  of  police,  "to 
insure  the  probability  that  this  death  is  not  the  result  of  a 


96  THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRI8TO. 

suicide,  as  we  at  first  believed,  but  of  an  assassination. 
Gen.  Quesnel  had  quitted,  as  it  appears,  a  Bonapartist  club 
when  he  disappeared.  An  unknown  person  had  been  with 
him  that  morning,  and  made  an  appointment  with  him  in 
the  Rue  Saint- Jacques;  unfortunately,  the  general's  valet- 
de-chambre,  who  was  dressing  his  hair  at  the  moment 
when  the  stranger  entered,  heard  the  street  mentioned,  but 
did  not  catch  the  number." 

As  the  police  minister  related  this  to  the  king,  Villefort, 
who  seemed  as  if  his  ve'ry  existence  hung  on  his  lips, 
turned  alternately  red  and  pale.  The  king  looked  toward 
him. 

"  Do  you  not  think  with  me,  M.  de  Villefort,  that  Gen. 
Quesnel,  whom  they  believed  attached  to  the  usurper,  but 
who  was  really  entirely  devoted  to  me,  has  perished  the 
victim  of  a  Bonapartist  ambush?" 

"  It  is  probable,  sire,"  replied  Villefort.  "  But  is  this 
all  that  is  known?" 

"  They  are  on  the  traces  of  the  man  who  appointed  the 
meeting  with  him." 

"  On  his  traces?"  said  Villefort. 

"  Yes,  the  servant  has  given  his  description.  He  is  a 
man  of  from  50  to  52  years  of  age,  brown,  with  black  eyes, 
covered  with  shaggy  eyebrows,  and  a  thick  mustache.  He 
was  dressed  in  a  blue  frock-coat,  buttoned  up  to  the  chin 
and  wore  at  his  button-hole  the  rosette  of  an  officer  of  the 
Legion  of  Honor.  Yesterday  an  individual  was  followed 
exactly  corresponding  with  this  description,  but  he  was  lost 
sight  of  at  the  corner  of  the  Rue  de  la  Jussienne  and  the 
Rue  Coq-Heron." 

Villefort  leaned  on  the  back  of  an  arm-chair;  for,  in  pro- 
portion as  the  minister  of  police  spoke,  he  felt  his  legs 
bend  under  him;  but  when  he  learned  that  the  unknown 
had  escaped  the  vigilance  of  the  agent  who  followed  him 
he  breathed  again. 

"  Continue  to  seek  for  this  man,  sir,"  said  the  king  to 
the  minister  of  police;  "  for  if,  as  all  conspires  to  convince 
me,  Gen.  Quesnel,  who  would  have  been  so  useful  to  us  at 
this  moment,  has  been  murdered,  his  assassins,  Bonapartists 
or  not,  shall  be  cruelly  punished." 

It  required  all  Villefort's  sang-froid  not  to  betray  the 
terror  with  which  this  declaration  of  the  king  inspired 
him. 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRI8TO.  97 

"  How  strange!"  continued  the  king,  with  some  asperity; 
"  the  police  think  all  is  said  when  it  says,  'A  murder  has 
been  committed/  and  particularly  when  it  adds:  'And  we 
are  on  the  trace  of  the  guilty  persons/ " 

"Sire,  your  majesty  will,  1  trust,  be  amply  satisfied  on 
this  point  at  least." 

"  We  shall  see;  I  will  no  longer  detain  you,  baron.  M. 
de  Villefort,  you  must  be  fatigued  after  so  long  a  journey; 
go  and  repose  yourself.  Of  course  you  stopped  at  your 
father's." 

A  faintness  came  over  Villefort. 

"  No,  sire,"  he  replied;  "  I  alighted  at  the  Hotel  de 
Madrid,  in  the  Rue  de  Tournon." 

*  But  you  have  seen  him?" 

'  Sire,  I  went  straight  to  M.  le  Comte  de  Blacas." 

'  But  you  will  see  him,  then?" 

'I  think  not,  sire." 

'  Ah,  I  forgot,"  said  Louis,  smiling  in  a  manner  which 
proved  that  all  these  questions  were  not  made  without  a 
motive;  "  I  forgot  you  and  M.  Noirtier  are  not  on  the  best 
terms  possible,  and  that  is  another  sacrifice  made  to  the 
royal  cause,  and  for  which  you  should  be  recompensed." 

"  Sire,  the  kindness  your  majesty  deigns  to  evince 
toward  me  is  a  recompense  which  so  far  surpasses  my  utmost 
ambition  that  I  have  nothing  more  to  request." 

"Never  mind,  sir,  we  will  not  forget  you;  make  your 
mind  easy.  In  the  meanwhile  "  (the  king  here  detached 
the  cross  of  the  Legion  of  Honor  he  usually  wore  over  his 
blue  coat,^  near  the  cross  of  St.  Louis,  above  the  order  of 
Notre-Daine-du-Mont-Carmel  and  St.  Lazaare,  and  gave  it 
to  Villefort) — ".in  the  meanwhile  take  this  cross." 

"  Sire,"  said  Villefort,  "  your  majesty  mistakes;  this 
cress  is  that  of  an  officer." 

"  Ma  foi,"  said  Louis  XVIII,  "  take  it,  such  as  it  is, 
for  I  have  not  the  ime  to  procure  you  another.  Blacas, 
let  it  be  your  care  to  see  that  the  brevet  is  made  out  and 
sent  to  M.  de  Villefort."  Villefort's  eyes  were  filled  with 
tears  of  joy  and  pride;  he  took  tht  cross  and  kissed  it. 

"  And  now,"  he  said,  "mav  I  inquire  what  are  the  or- 
ders with  which  your  majesty  deigns  to  honor  me?" 

"  Take  what  rest  you  require,  and  remember  that,  un- 
able to  serve  me  here  in  Paris,  you  may  be  of  the  greatest 
service  to  me  at  Marseilles." 


98  THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO. 

"  Sire,  replied  Villefort,  bowing,  "  in  an  hour  I  shall 
have  quitted  Paris." 

"  Go,  sir,"  said  the  king;  "  and  should  I  forget  you 
(king's  memories  are  short),  do  not  be  afraid  to  bring 
yourself  to  my  recollection.  M.  le  Baron,  send  for  the 
minister  of  war.  Blacas,  remain." 

"  Ah,  sir,"  said  the  minister  of  police  to  Villefo'rt,  as 
they  left  the  Tuileries,  "you  enter  by  the  right  door — 
your  fortune  is  made." 

"  Will  it  be  long  first?"  muttered  Villefort,  saluting  the 
minister,  whose  career  was  ended,  and  looking  about  him 
for  a  hackney-coach.  One  passed  at  the  moment,  which 
he  hailed;  he  gave  his  address  to  the  driver,  and,  springing 
in,  threw  himself  on  the  seat,  and  gave  loose  to  dreams  of 
ambition. 

Ten  minutes  afterward  Villefort  reach  his  hotel,  or- 
dered his  horses  in  two  hours,  and  desired  to  have  his 
breakfast  brought  to  him.  He  was  about  to  commence  his 
repast  when  the  sound  of  the  bell,  rung  by  a  free  and 
firm  hand,  was  heard.  The  valet  opened  the  door,  and 
Villefort  heard  his  name  pronounced. 

"  Who  could  know  that  I  was  here  already?"  said  the 
young  man. 

The  valet  entered. 

"  Well,"  said  Villefort,  "what  is  it?  Who  rang?  Who 
asked  for  me?" 

"  A  stranger,  who  will  not  send  in  his  name." 

"  A  stranger,  who  will  not  send  in  his  name!  What 
can  he  want  with  me?" 

"  He  wishes  to  speak  to  you." 

"  To  me?" 

"  Yes." 

"  Did  he  mention  my  nameP* 

"  Yes." 

"  What  sort  of  person  is  he?" 

"Why,  sir,  a  man  of  about  50." 

"  Short  or  tall?" 

"  About  your  own  height,  sir." 

"  Dark  or  fair?" 

"  Dark — very  dark;  with  black  eyes,  black  hair,  black 
eyebrows." 

"  And  how  dressed,"  asked  Villefort,  quickly 

"  In  a  blue  frock-coat,  buttoned  up  close,  decorated 
the  Legion  of  Honor*" 


THE  CO  UNT  OF  MONTE  CRI8TO.  99 

"  It  is  he!"  said  Villefort,  turning  pale. 

"  Eh,  pardieul"  said  the  individual  whose  description 
we  have  twice  given,  entering  the  door;  "what  a  great  deal 
of  ceremony  !  Is  it  the  custom  in  Marseilles  for  sons  to 
keep  their  fathers  waiting  in  their  ante-rooms?" 

"  Father!"  cried  Villefort,  "  then  I  was  not  deceived; 
I  felt  sure  it  must  be  you." 

"  Well,  then,  if  you  felt  so  sure,"  replied  the  new- 
comer, putting  his  cane  in  a  corner  and  his  hat  on  a 
chair,  "allow  me  to  say,  my  dear  Gerard,  that  it  was  not 
very  filial  of  you  to  keep  me  waiting  at  the  door." 

"  Leave  us,  Germain,"  said  Villefort.  The  servant 
quitted  the  apartment  with  evident  signs  of  astonishment. 


CHAPTER  XII. 

FATHER     AND     SON. 

M.  NOIRTIER — for  it  was,  indeed,  he  who  entered — fol- 
lowed with  his  eyes  the  servant  until  he  had  closed  the 
door,  and  then,  fearing,  no  doubt,  that  he  might  be  over- 
heard in  the  ante-chamber,  he  opened  the  door  again;  nor 
was  the  precaution  useless,  as  appeared  from  the  rapid  re- 
treat of  Germain,  who  proved  that  he  was  not  exempt  from 
the  sin  which  ruined  our  first  parents.  M.  Noirtier  then 
took  the  trouble  to  close  carefully  the  door  of  the  ante- 
chamber, then  that  of  the  bed-chamber,  and  then  ex- 
tended his  hand  to  Villefort,  who  had  followed  all  his  mo- 
tions with  surprise  which  he  could  not  conceal. 

"  Well,  now,  my  dear  G6rard,"  said  he  to  the  young 
man,  with  a  very  significant  look,  "do  you  know  you  seem 
as  if  you  were  not  very  glad  to  see  me?  " 

"  My  dear  father,"  said  Villefort,  "  I  am,  on  the  con- 
trary, delighted;  but  I  so  little  expected  your  visit  that  it 
has  somewhat  overcome  me." 

"  But,  my  dear  fellow,"  replied  M.  Noirtier,  seating 
himself,  "  I  might  say  the  same  thing  to  you,  when  you 
announce  to  me  your  wedding  for  the  28th  of  February, 
and  on  the  4th  of  March  here  you  are  in  Paris." 

"  And  if  I  have  come,  my  dear  father,"  said  Gerard, 
drawing  closer  to  M.  Noirtier,  "do  not  complain,  for  it  is 
for  you  that  I  came,  and  my  journey  will  save  you." 


100  THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRI8TO. 

"Ah,  indeed!"  said  M.  Noirtier,  stretching  himself  out 
at  his  ease  in  the  chair.  "  Really,  pray  tell  me  all  about 
it,  M.  le  Magistrat,  for  it  must  be  interesting." 

"  Father,  you  have  heard  me  speak  of  a  certain  club  of 
Bonapartists^held  in  the  Rue  Saints  Jacques?" 

"  No.  53;  yes,  I  am  vice-presideni." 

"  Father,  your  coolness  makes  me  shudder." 

"  Why,  my  dear  boy,  when  a  man  has  been  proscribed 
by  the  mountaineers,  has  escaped  from  Paris  in  a  hay- 
cart,  been  hunted  in  the  landes  of  Bordeaux  by  M.  Robe- 
spierre's bloodhounds,  he  becomes  accustomed  to  most 
things.  But  go  on,  what  about  the  club  in  the  Rue  Saint- 
Jacques?" 

"  Why,  they  induced  Gen.  Quesnel  to  go  there,  and 
Gen.  Quesnel,  who  quitted  his  own  house  at  9  o'clock  in 
the  evening,  was  found  the  next  day  in  the  Seine." 

"  And  who  told  you  this  fine  story?" 

"  The  king  himself." 

"  Well,  then,  in  return  for  your  story,"  continued  Noir- 
tier,  "  I  will  tell  you  one." 

"  My  dear  father,  I  think  I  already  know  what  you  are 
about  to  tell  me." 

"  Ah,  you  have  heard  of  the  landing  of  the  emperor?" 

"  Not  so  loud,  father,  I  entreat  of  you — for  your  own 
sake  as  well  as  mine.  Yes,  I  heard  this  news,  and  knew  it 
even  before  you  could;  for  three  days  ago  I  posted  from 
Marseilles  to  Paris  with  all  possible  speed,  and  half-des- 
perate because  T  could  not  send  with  a  wish  200  leagues 
ahead  of  me  the  thought  which  was  agitating  my  brain. " 

"  Three  days  ago!  You  are  crazy.  Why,  three  days 
ago  the  emperor  had  not  landed." 

No  matter;  I  was  aware  of  his  project." 
How  did  you  learn  it?" 

By  a  letter  addressed  to  you  from  the  Isle  of  Elba." 
To  me?" 

To  you;  and  which  I  discovered  in  the  pocket-book 
of  the  messenger.  Had  that  letter  fallen  into  the  hands 
of  another,  you,  my  dear  father,  would  probably  ere  this 
have  been  shot."  Villefort's  father  laughed. 

"  Come,  come,"  said  he,  "it  appears  that  the  restoration 
has  learned  from  the  empire  the  mode  of  settling  affairs 
speedily.  Shot,  my  dear  boy !  you  go  ahead  with  a  venge- 
ance. Where  is  this  letter  you  talk  about?  I  know  you 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CR1STO.  101 

too  well  to  suppose  you  would  allow  such  a  thing  to  pass 
you. " 

"  I  burned  it,  for  fear  that  even  a  fragment  should  re- 
main; for  that  letter  must  have  effected  your  condemna- 
tion. " 

"  And  the  destruction  of  your  future  prospects,"  replied 
Noirtier;  "yes,  I  can  easily  comprehend  that.  But  I  have 
nothing  to  fear  while  I  have  you  to  protect  me." 

"  I  do  better  than  that,  sir — I  save  you." 

"  You  do?  why,  really,  the  thing  becomes  more  and  more 
dramatic;  explain  yourself." 

"  I  must  refer  again  to  the  club  in  the  Rue  Saint- 
Jaques." 

"  It  appears  that  this  club  is  rather  a  bore  to  the  police. 
Why  didn't  they  search  more  vigilantly?  they  would  have 
found " 

"  They  have  not  found,  but  they  are  on  the  track." 

"  Yes,  that's  the  usual  phrase;  I  know  it  well.  When 
the  police  is  at  fault  it  declares  that  it  is  on  the  track,  and 
the  government  patiently  awaits  the  day  when  it  comes  to 
say,  with  a  sneaking  air,  that  the  track  is  lost." 

"  Yes,  but  they  have  found  a  corpse;  the  general  has 
been  killed,  and  in  all  countries  they  call  that  a  murder." 

"  A  murder,  do  you  call  it?  why,  there  is  nothing  to 
prove  that  the  general  was  murdered.  People  are  found 
every  day  in  the  Seine,  having  thrown  themselves  in,  or 
have  been  drowned  from  not  knowing  how  to  swim." 

"  Father  you  know  very  well  that  the  general  was  not  a 
man  to  drown  himself  in  despair,  and  people  do  not  bathe 
in  the  Seine  in  the  month  of  January.  No,  no,  do  not 
mistake;  this  death  was  a  murder  in  every  sense  of  the 
word." 

"  And  who  thus  designated  it?" 

"The  king  himself.* 

"  The  king!  I  thought  he  was  philosopher  enough  to 
allow  that  there  was  no  murder  in  politics.  In  politics,  my 
dear  fellow,  you  know  as  well  as  I  do,  there  are  no  men, 
but  ideas — no  feelings,  but  interests;  in  politics  we  do  not 
kill  a  man,  we  only  remove  an  obstacle,  that  is  all.  Would 
you  like  to  know  how  matters  have  progressed?  Well,  I 
will  tell  you.  It  was  thought  reliance  might  be  placed  in 
Gen.  Quesnel;  he  was  recommended  to  us  from  the  Isle  of 
Elba;  one  of  us  went  to  him  and  invited  him  to  the  Rue 


102  THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  VRISTO. 

Saint-Jacques,  where  he  would  find  some  friends.  He 
came  there,  and  the  plan  was  unfolded  to  him  of  the  leav- 
ing Elba,  the  projected  landing,  etc.  When  he  had  heard 
and  comprehended  all  to  the  fullest  extent,  he  replied  that 
he  was  a  royalist.  Then  all  looked  at  each  other;  he  was 
made  to  take  an  oath,  and  did  so,  but  with  such  an  ill 
grace  that  it  was  really  tempting  Providence  to  swear  thus; 
and  yet,  in  spite  of  that,  the  general  was  allowed  to  depart 
free — perfectly  free.  Yet  he  did  not  return  home.  What 
could  that  mean?  Why,  my  dear  fellow,  that  on  leaving  us 
he  lost  his  way,  that's  all.  A  murder!  really,  Villefort,  you 
surprise  me.  You,  a  deputy  procureur,  to  found  an  accu- 
sation on  such  bad  premises!  Did  I  ever  say  to  you,  when 
you  were  fulfilling  your  character  as  a  royalist,  and  cut  off 
the  head  of  one  of  my  party,  *  My  sou,  you  have  committed 
a  murder?'  No,  I  said,  '  Very  well,  sir,  you  have  gained 
the  victory;  to-morrow,  perchance,  it  will  be  our  turn.'  " 

"  But,  father,  take  care  when  our  turn  comes;  our 
revenge  will  be  sweeping." 

"  I  do  not  understand  you." 

"  You  rely  on  the  usurper's  return?" 

"  We  do." 

"  You  are  mistaken;  he  will  not  advance  two  leagues 
into  the  interior  of  France  without  being  followed,  tracked 
and  caught  like  a  wild  beast." 

"  My  dear  fellow  the  emperor  is  at  this  moment  on  the 
way  to  Grenoble;  on  the  10th  or  12th  he  will  be  at  Lyons, 
and  on  the  20th  or  25th  at  Paris." 

"  The  population  will  rise." 

"  Yes,  to  go  and  meet  him." 

"  He  has  but  a  handful  of  men  with  him,  and  armies 
will  be  dispatched  against  him." 

"  Yes,  to  escort  him  into  the  capital.  Really,  my  dear 
Gerard,  you  are  but  a  child;  you  think  yourself  well 
informed  because  a  telegraph  has  told  you  three  days  after 
the  landing,  '  The  usurper  has  landed  at  Cannes  with  sev- 
eral men.  He  is  pursued.'  But  where  is  he?  what  is  he 
doing?  You  do  not  know  well,  and  in  this  way  they  will 
pursue  him  to  Paris  without  drawing  a  trigger." 

"  Grenoble  and  Lyons  are  faithful  cities,  and  will  oppose 
to  him  an  impassable  barrier." 

•'  Grenoble  will  open  her  gates  to  him  with  enthusiasm 
— all  Lyons  will  hasten  to  welcome  him.  Believe  me,  we 


THE  CO  UNT  OF  MONTE  CRI8TO.  103 

are  as  well  informed  as  you,  and  our  police  is  as  good  as 
your  own.  Would  you  like  a  proof  of  it?  Well,  you 
wished  to  conceal  your  journey  from  me,  and  yet  I  knew 
of  your  arrival  half  an  hour  after  you  had  passed  the  bar- 
rier. You  gave  your  direction  to  no  one  but  your  postilion, 
yet  I  have  your  address,  and,  in  proof,  I  am  here  the  very 
instant  you  are  going  to  sit  at  table.  Ring,  then,  if  you 
please,  for  a  second  knife,  fork  and  plate,  and  we  will  diue 
together." 

"  Indeed,"  replied  Villefort,  looking  at  his  father  with 
astonishment,  "you  really  do  seem  very  well  informed." 

"Eh?  the  thing  is  simple  enough.  You,  who  are  in 
power,  have  only  the  means  that  money  produces;  we,  who 
are  in  expectation,  have  those  which  devotion  prompts." 

"Devotion!"  said  Villefort,  with  a  sneer. 

"  Yes,  devotion;  for  that  is,  I  believe,  the  phrase  for 
hopeful  ambition." 

And  Villefort's  father  extended  his  hand  to  the  bell-rope 
to  summon  the  servant,  whom  his  son  had  not  called. 
Villefort  arrested  his  arm. 

"  Wait,  my  dear  father,"  said  the  young  man;  "  one 
other  word." 

"  Say  it." 

"  However  ill-conducted  is  the  royalist  police,  they  yet 
know  one  terrible  thing." 

"  What  is  that?" 

"  The  description  of  the  man  who,  on  the  morning  of 
the  day  when  Gen.  Quesnel  disappeared,  presented  himself 
at  his  house." 

"Oh!  the  admirable  police  have  found  that  out,  have 
they?  And  what  may  be  that  description?" 

"  Brown  complexion;  hair,  eyebrows  and  whiskers  black; 
blue  frock-coat,  buttoned  up  to  the  chin;  rosette  of  an 
officer  of  the  Legion  of  Honor  in  his  button-hole;  a  hat 
with  a  wide  brim  and  a  cane." 

"Ah!  ha!  that  is  it,  is  it?"  said  Noirtier;  "and  why, 
then,  have  they  not  laid  hands  on  the  individual  ?" 

"  Because  yesterday,  or  the  day  before,  they  lost  sight  of 
him  at  the  corner  of  the  Rue  Coq-Heron?" 

"  Didn't  I  say  your  police  was  good  for  nothing?" 

"  Yes,  but  still  it  may  lay  hands  on  him." 

"  True,"  said  Noirtier,  looking  carelessly  around  him, 
"  true,  if  this  individual  were  not  warned  as  he  is ;"  and  he 


104  THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRI8TO. 

added,  with  a  smile,  "he  will  consequently  change  looks 
and  costume." 

At  these  words  he  rose,  and  put  off  his  frock-coat  and 
cravat,  went  toward  a  table  on  which  lay  all  the  requisites 
of  the  toilet  for  his  son,  lathered  his  face,  took  a  razor, 
and,  with  a  firm  hand,  cut  off  the  whiskers  that  might 
have  compromised  him  and  gave  the  police  so  decided  a 
trace.  Villefort  watched  him  with  alarm,  not  divested  of 
admiration. 

His  whiskers  cut  off,  Noirtier  gave  another  turn  to  his 
hair  ;  took,  instead  of  his  black  cravat,  a  colored  necker- 
chief which  lay  at  the  top  of  an  open  portmanteau  ;  put  on, 
in  lieu  of  his  blue  and  high-buttoned  frock-coat,  a  coat  of 
Villefort's,  of  dark  brown  and  sloped  away  in  front ;  tried 
on  before  the  glass  a  narrow-brimmed  hat  of  his  son's, 
which  appeared  to  fit  him  perfectly,  and,  leaving  his  cane 
in  the  corner  where  he  had  deposited  it,  he  made  to  whistle 
in  his  powerful  hand  a  small  bamboo  switch,  which  the 
dandy  deputy  used  when  he  walked,  and  which  aided  in 
giving  him  that  easy  swagger  which  was  one  of  his  princi- 
pal characteristics. 

"Well,"  he  said,  turning  toward  his  wondering  son, 
when  this  disguise  was  completed,  "well,  do  you  think 
your  police  will  recognize  me  now?" 

"No,  father,"  stammered  Villefort;  "at  least,  I  hope 
not." 

"And  now,  my  dear  boy,"  continued  Noirtier,  "  I  rely 
on  your  prudence  to  remove  all  the  things  which  I  leave  in 
your  care." 

"  Oh,  rely  on  me/'  said  Villefort. 

11  Yes,  yes  !  and  now  I  believe  you  are  right,  and  that 
you  have  really  saved  my  life  ;  but  be  assured  I  will  return 
the  obligation  to  you  hereafter." 

Villefort  shook  his  head. 
'You  are  not  convinced  yet?" 
'  I  hope,  at  least,  that  you  may  be  mistaken." 
'  Shall  you  see  the  king  again?" 
*  Per  haps." 

f  Would  you  pass  in  his  eyes  for  a  prophet?" 
'  Prophets  of  evil  are  not  in  favor  at  the  court,  father." 
'  True,  but  some  day  they  do  them  justice  ;  and,  sup- 
posing a  second  restoration,   you  would  then  pass  for  a 
great  man." 


THE  CO  INT  OF  MON2  E  GRI8TO.  105 

"Well,  what  should  I  say  to  the  king?" 

"  Say  this  to  him :  '  Sire,  you  are  deceived  as  to  the 
feeling  in  France,  as  to  the  opinions  of  the  towns,  and  the 
prejudices  of  the  army ;  he  whom,  in  Paris,  you  call  the 
ogre  of  Corsica,  who  at  Nevers  is  styled  the  usurper,  is 
already  saluted  as  Bonaparte  at  Lyons  and  emperor  at 
Grenoble.  You  think  he  is  tracked,  pursued,  captured ; 
he  is  advancing  as  rapidly  as  his  own  eagles.  The  soldiers 
you  believed  dying  with  hunger,  worn  out  with  fatigue, 
ready  to  desert,  increase  like  atoms  of  snow  about  the  roll- 
ing ball  which  hastens  onward.  Sire,  go,  leave  France  to 
its  real  master,  to  him  who  did  not  buy,  but  acquired  it ; 
go,  sire,  not  that  you  incur  any  risk,  for  your  adversary  is 
powerful  enough  to  show  you  mercy,  but  because  it  would 
be  humiliating  for  a  grandson  of  St.  Louis  to  owe  his  life 
to  the  man  of  Arcola,  Marengo,  Austerlitz.'  Tell  him 
this,  Gerard;  or,  rather,  tell  him  nothing.  Keep  your 
journey  a  secret ;  do  not  boast  of  what  you  have  come  to 
Paris  to  do,  or  have  done  ;  return  with  all  speed ;  enter 
Marseilles  at  night,  and  your  house  by  the  back-door,  and 
there  remain,  quiet,  submissive,  secret,  and,  above  all, 
inoffensive  ;  for  this  time,  I  swear  to  you,  we  shall  act  like 
powerful  men  who  know  their  enemies.  Go,  my  son — go, 
my  dear  Gerard,  and  by  your  obedience  to  my  paternal 
orders,  or,  if  you  prefer  it,  friendly  counsels,  we  will  keep 
you  in  your  place.  This  will  be,"  added  Noirtier,  with  a 
smile,  "one  means  by  which  you  may  a  second  time  save 
me,  if  the  political  balance  should  one  day  place  you  high 
and  me  low.  Adieu,  my  dear  Gerard,  and  at  your  next 
journey  alight  at  my  door." 

Noirtier  left  the  room  when  he  had  finished,  with  the 
same  calmness  that  had  characterized  him  during  the 
whole  of  this  remarkable  and  trying  conversation.  Ville- 
fort,  pale  and  agitated,  ran  to  the  window,  put  aside  the 
curtain,  and  saw  him  pass,  cool  and  collected,  by  two  or 
three  ill-looking  men  at  the  corner  of  the  street,  who  were 
there,  perhaps,  to  arrest  a  man  with  black  whiskers  and  a 
blue  frock-coat  and  hat  with  broad  brim. 

Villefort  stood  watching,  breathless,  until  his  father  had 
disappeared  at  the  Hue  Bussy.  Then  he  turned  to  the 
various  articles  he  had  left  behind  him,  put  at  the  bottom 
of  his  portmanteau  his  black  cravat  and  blue  frock-coat, 
threw  the  hat  into  a  dark  closet,  broke  the  cane  into  small 


106  THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRI8TO. 

bits  and  flung  it  into  the  fire,  put  on  his  traveling-cap,  and, 
calling  his  valet,  checked  with  a  look  the  thousand  ques- 
tions he  was  ready  to  ask,  paid  his  bill,  sprang  into  his 
carriage,  which  was  ready,  learned  at  Lyons  that  Bonaparte 
had  entered  Grenoble,  and  in  the  midst  of  the  tumult 
which  prevailed  along  the  road  at  length  reached  Mar- 
seilles, a  prey  to  all  the  hopes  and  fears  which  enter  into 
the  heart  of  man  with  ambition  and  its  first  successes. 


CHAPTER  XIII. 

THE     H UK DEED     DAYS. 

M.  NOIETIEE  was  a  true  prophet,  and  things  progressed 
rapidly,  as  he  had  predicted.  Every  one  knows  the  his- 
tory of  the  famous  return  from  Elba,  a  return  which, 
without  example  in  the  past,  will  probably  remain  without 
imitation  in  the  future. 

Louis  XVIII  made  but  a  faint  attempt  to  parry  this  un- 
expected blow  ;  the  monarchy  he  had  scarcely  reconstructed 
tottered  on  its  precarious  foundation,  and  it  needed  but  a 
sign  of  the  emperor  to  hurl  to  the  ground  all  this  edifice 
composed  of  ancient  prejudices  and  new  ideas.  -Villefort, 
therefore,  gained  nothing  save  the  king's  gratitude  (which 
was  rather  likely  to  injure  him  at  the  present  time)  and 
the  cross  of  the  Legion  of  Honor,  which  he  had  the  pru- 
dence not  to  wear,  although  M.  de  Blacas  had  duly  for- 
warded the  brevet. 

Napoleon  would,  doubtless,  have  deprived  Villefort  of 
his  office  had  it  not  been  for  Noirtier,  who  was  all-powerful 
at  the  court;  and  thus  the  Girondin  of  '93  and  the 
senator  of  1806  protected  him  who  so  lately  had  been  his 
protector.  All  Villef  ort's  influence  barely  enabled  him  to 
stifle  the  secret  Dantes  had  so  nearly  divulged.  The 
king's  procureur  alone  was  deprived  of  his  office,  being 
suspected  of  royalism. 

However,  scarcely  was  the  imperial  power  established — 
that  is,  scarcely  had  the  emperor  re-entered  the  Tuileries 
and  issued  his  numerous  orders  from  that  little  cabinet 
into  which  we  have  introduced  our  readers,  and  on  the 
table  of  which  he  found  Louis  XVIII's  snuff-box,  half-full, 


THE  CO  UNT  OF  MONTE  VRIS1 0.  107 

than  Marseilles  began  to  rekindle  the  flames  of  civil  war, 
and  it  required  but  little  to  excite  the  populace  to  acts  of 
far  greater  violence  than  the  shouts  and  insults  with  which 
they  assailed  the  royalists  whenever  they  ventured  abroad. 

Owing  to  this  change,  the  worthy  ship-owner  became  at 
that  moment — we  will  not  say  all-powerful,  because  Morrel 
waa  a  prudent  and  rather  a  timid  man,  so  much  so,  that 
many  of  the  most  zealous  partisans  of  Bonaparte  accused 
him  of  "moderation" — but  sufficiently  influential  to  make 
a  demand  in  favor  of  Dantes. 

Villefort  retained  his  place,  but  his  marriage  was  put 
off  until  a  more  favorable  opportunity.  If  the  emperor 
remained  on  the  throne  Gerard  required  a  different  alli- 
ance to  aid  his  career;  if  Louis  XVIII  returned  the  influence 
of  M.  Saint-M6ran  and  himself  became  double,  and  the 
marriage  must  be  still  more  suitable.  The  deputy  pro- 
cnreur  was,  therefore,  the  first  magistrate  of  Marseilles, 
when  one  morning  his  door  opened  and  M.  Morrel  was 
announced. 

Any  one  else  would  have  hastened  to  receive  him;  but 
Villefort  was  a  man  of  ability  and  he  knew  this  would  be 
a  sign  of  weakness.  He  made  Morrel  wait  in  the  ante- 
chamber, although  he  had  no  one  with  him,  for  the  sim- 
ple reason  that  the  king's  procureur  always  makes  every 
one  wait;  and  after  a  quarter  of  an  hour  passed  in  reading 
papers  he  ordered  M.  Morrel  to  be  admitted. 

Morrel  expected  Villefort  would  be  dejected ;  he  found 
him,  as  he  had  found  him  six  weeks  before,  calm,  firm 
and  full  of  that  glacial  politeness,  that  most  insurmount- 
able barrier  which  separates  the  well  bred  and  the  vulgar 
man. 

He  had  penetrated  into  Villefort's  cabinet  convinced  the 
magistrate  would  tremble  at  the  sight  of  him;  on  the  con- 
trary, he  felt  a  cold  shudder  all  over  him  when  he  beheld 
Villefort  seated,  his  elbow  on  his  desk  and  his  head  leaning 
on  his  hand.  He  stopped  at  the  door;  Villefort  gazed  at 
him  as  if  he  had  some  difficulty  in  recognizing  him;  then, 
after  a  brief  interval,  during  which  the  honest  ship-owner 
turned  his  hat  in  his  hands: 

"M.  Morrel,  I  believer  said  Villefort. 

"  Yes,  sir." 

'•'  Come  nearer,"  said  the  magistrate,  with  a  patronizing 
wave  of  the  hand,  "and  tell  me  to  what  circumstance  I 
owe  the  honor  of  this  visit." 


108  THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRItiTO. 

"  Do  you  not  guess,  monsieur?"  asked  Morrel. 

"  Not  in  the  least;  but  if  I  can  serve  you  in  any  way  I 
ghall  be  delighted." 

"Everything  depends  on  you." 

"Explain  yourself,  pray. 

"Monsieur,"  said  Morrel,  recovering  his  assurance  as 
he  proceeded,  "  do  you  recollect  that  a  few  days  before 
the  landing  of  his  majesty,  the  emperor,  I  came  to  inter- 
cede for  a  young  man,  the  mate  of  my  ship,  who  was  ac- 
cused of  being  concerned  in  a  correspondence  with  the 
Isle  of  Elba;  and  what  was  the  other  day  a  crime  is  to-day 
a  title  to  favor.  You  then  served  Louis  XVIII  and  you 
did  not  show  any  favor — it  was  your  duty ;  to-day  you 
serve  Napoleon  and  you  ought  to  protect  him — it  is  equally 
your  duty.  I  come,  therefore,  to  ask  what  has  become  of 
him?" 

Villefort  made  a  violent  start. 

"  What  is  his  name?"  said  he;  "  tell  me  his  name." 

"  Edmond  Dantes." 

Villefort  would  evidently  have  rather  stood  opposite  the 
muzzle  of  a  pistol  at  five-and-twenty  paces  than  have 
heard  this  name  pronounced,  but  he  betrayed  no  emotion. 

"Dantes,"  repeated  he,  "Edmond  Dantes?" 

"Yes,  monsieur." 

Villefort  opened  a  large  register,  then  went  to  a  table, 
from  the  table  turned  to  his  registers,  and  then,  turning  to 
Morrel: 

"Are  you  quite  sure  you  are  not  mistaken,  monsieur?" 
said  he,  in  the  most  natural  tone  in  the  world. 

Had  Morrel  been  a  more  quick-sighted  man  or  better 
versed  in  these  matters  he  would  have  been  surprised  at 
the  king's  procureur  answering  him  on  such  a  subject  in- 
stead of  referring  him  to  the  governors  of  the  prison  or 
the  prefect  of  the  department.  But  Morrel,  disappointed 
in  his  expectations  of  exciting  fear,  saw  only  in  its  place 
condescension.  Villefort  had  calculated  rightly. 

"No,"  said  Morrel,  "I  am  not  mistaken.  I  have 
known  him  ten  years,  and  the  last  four  he  has  been  in  my 
service.  Do  not  you  recollect  I  came  about  six  weeks  ago 
to  beseech  your  clemency  as  I  come  to-day  to  beseech  your 
justice.  You  received  me  very  coldly.  Oh,  the  royalists 
were  very  severe  with  the  Bonapartists  in  those  days." 

"  Monsieur,"  returned  Villefort,  "  I  was  then  a  royalist 


THE  GO  UNT  OF  MONTE  CRI8TO.  109 

because  I  believed  the  Bourbons  not  only  the  heirs  to  the 
throne  but  the  chosen  of  the  nation.  The  miraculous  re- 
turn of  Napoleon  has  conquered  me;  the  legitimate  mon- 
arch is  he  who  is  loved  by  his  people. " 

"That's  right!"  cried  Morrel.  "I  like  to  hear  you 
speak  thus,  and  I  augur  well  for  Edmond  from  it." 

"  Wait  a  moment/'  said  Villefort,  turning  over  the 
leaves  of  a  register;  "  I  have  it — a  sailor,  who  was  about 
to  marry  a  young  Catalan  girl.  I  recollect  now,  it  was  a 
very  serious  charge." 

"How  so?" 

"  You  know  that  when  he  left  here  he  was  taken  to  the 
Palais  de  Justice?" 

"Well?" 

"  I  made  my  report  to  the  authorities  at  Paris  and  a 
week  after  he  was  carried  off." 

"  Carried  off  !"  said  Morrel.  "  What  can  they  have 
done  with  him?" 

"  Oh,  he  has  been  taken  to  Penestrelles,  to  Pignerol,  or 
to  the  lies  Sainte-Marguerite.  Some  fine  morning  he  will 
return  to  assume  the  command  of  your  vessel." 

"  Come  when  he  will,  it  shall  be  kept  for  him.  But 
how  is  it  he  is  not  already  returned?  It  seems  to  me  the 
first  care  of  government  should  be  to  set  at  liberty  those 
who  have  suffered  for  their  adherence  to  it." 

"  Do  not  be  too  hasty,  M.  Morrel,"  replied  Villefort. 
"  The  order  of  imprisonment  came  from  high  authority, 
and  the  order  for  his  liberation  must  proceed  from  the 
same  source;  and  as  Napoleon  has  scarcely  been  rein- 
stated a  fortnight  the  letters  have  not  yet  been  forwarded." 

"  But,"  said  Morrel,  "  is  there  no  way  of  expediting  all 
these  formalities  of  releasing  him  from  his  arrest?" 

"  There  has  been  no  arrest." 

"How?" 

"  It  is  sometimes  essential  to  government  to  cause  a 
man's  disappearance  without  leaving  any  traces,  so  that  no 
written  forms  or  documents  may  defeat  their  wishes." 

"It  might  be  so  under  the  Bourbons,  but  at  pres- 
ent  " 

"It  is  always  the  same,  my  dear  Morrel,  since  the  reign 
of  Louis  XI V.  The  emperor  is  more  strict  in  prison  dis- 
cipline than  even  Louis  himself,  and  the  number  of  pris- 
oners whose  name  are  not  on  the  register  is  incalculable." 


110  THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO. 

Had  Morrel  even  any  suspicions  so  much  kindness  would 
have  dispelled  them. 

"  Well,  M.  de  Villefort,  how  would  you  advise  me  to 
act?"  asked  he. 

"  Petition  the  minister." 

"  Oh,  I  know  what  that  is;  the  minister  receives  200 
every  day  and  does  not  read  three." 

"That  is  true;  but  he  will  read  a  petition  countersigned 
and  presented  by  me." 

"And  will  you  undertake  to  deliver  it?" 

"  With  the  greatest  pleasure.  Dante^s  was  then  guilty 
and  now  he  is  innocent;  and  it  is  as  much  my  duty  to  free 
him  as  it  was  to  condemn  him." 

"But  how  shall  I  address  the  minister?" 

"  Sit  down  there,"  saidtVillefort,  giving  up  his  place  to 
Morrel,  "and  write  what  I  dictate." 

"  Will  you  be  so  good  ?" 

"Certainly.  But  lose  no  time;  we  have  lost  too  much 
already." 

"  That  is  true.  Only  think  that  perhaps  this  poor 
young  man  is  pining  in  captivity."  Villefort  shuddered  at 
this  picture;  but  he  was  too  far  gone  to  recede.  Dantes 
must  be  crushed  beneath  the  weight  of  Villefort's  ambition. 

Villefort  dictated  a  petition,  in  which,  from  an  excellent 
intention,  no  doubt,  Dantes'  services  were  exaggerated,  and 
he  was  made  out  one  of  the  most  active  agents  of  Napoleon's 
return.  It  was  evident  that  at  the  sight  of  this  document 
the  minister  would  instantly  release  him.  The  petition 
finished,  Villefort  read  it  aloud. 

"  That  will  do,"  said  he;  "  leave  the  rest  to  me."' 

"  Will  the  petition  go  soon  ?" 

"  To-day." 

"  Countersigned  by  you  ?" 

"  The  best  thing  that  I  can  do  will  be  to  certify  to  the 
truth  of  the  contents  of  your  petition."  And,  sitting  down, 
Villefort  wrote  the  certificate  at  the  bottom. 

"  What  more  is  to  be  done  ?" 

"I  will  answer  for  everything."  This  assurance  charmed 
Morrel,  who  took  leave  of  Villefort,  and  hastened  to  an- 
nounce to  old  Dantes  that  he  would  soon  see  his  son. 

As  for  Villefort.  instead  of  sending  to  Pirns,  he  carefully 
preserved  the  petition  that  so  fearfully  compromised 
Dantes,  in  the  hopes  of  an  evant  that  seemed  not  unlikely — 


THE  CO  UNT  OF  MONTE  CRI8TO.  H 1 

that  is,  a  second  restoration.  Dant^s  remained  a  prisoner, 
and  heard  not  the  noise  of  the  fall  of  Louis  XVIII's  throne. 

Twice  during  the  100  days  had  Morrel  renewed  his 
demand,  and  twice  had  Villefort  soothed  him  with  promises. 
At  last  there  was  Waterloo,  and  Morrel  came  no  more;  he 
had  done  all  that  was  in  his  power,  and  any  fresK'  attempt 
would  only  compromise  himself  uselessly.  f 

Louis  XVIII  remounted  the  throne,  Villefort  demanded 
and  obtained  the  situation  of  king's  procureurat  Toulouse, 
and  a  fortnight  afterward  married  Ren6e. 

Danglars  comprehended  the  full  extent  of  the  wretched 
fate  that  overwhelmed  Dant£s,  and,  like  all  men  of  small 
abilities,  he  termed  this  a  decree  of  Providence.  But  when 
Napoleon  returned  to  Paris  Danglars'  heart  failed  him,  and 
he  feared  at  every  instant  to  behold  Dante's  eager  for 
vengeance;  he  therefore  informed  M.  Morrel  of  his  wish 
to  quit  the  sea,  and  obtained  a  recommendation  from  him 
to  a  Spanish  merchant,  into  whose  service  he  entered  at 
the  end  of  March — that,  is  ten  or  twelve  days  after  Napoleon's 
return.  He  then  left  for  Madrid  and  was  no.  more 
heard  of. 

Fernand  understood  nothing  except  that  Dantes  was 
absent.  What  had  become  of  him  he  cared  not  to  inquire. 
Only  during  the  respite  the  absence  of  his  rival  afforded 
him  he  reflected,  partly  on  the  means  of  deceiving  Mer- 
cedes as  to  the  cause  of  his  absence,  partly  on  plans  of 
emigration  and  abduction,  as  from  time  to  time  he  sat 
sad  and  motionless  on  the  summit  of  Cape  Pharo,  at  the 
spot  from  whence  Marseilles  and  the  village  des  Catalans 
are  visible,  watching  for  the  apparition  of  a  young  and  hand- 
gome  man,  who  was  for  him  also  the  messenger  of  vengeance. 
Fernand's  mind  was  made  up;  he  would  shoot  Dantes  and 
then  kill  himself.  But  Fernand  was  mistaken  ;  a  man  of 
his  disposition  never  kills  himself,  for  he  constantly  hopes. 

During  this  time  the  empire  made  a  last  appeal,  and 
every  man  in  France  capable  of  bearing  arms  rushed  to 
obey  the  summons  of  their  emperor.  Fernand  departed 
with  the  rest,  bearing  with  him  the  terrible  thought  that 
perhaps  his  rival  was  behind  him  and  would  marry  Mer- 
ce"des.  Had  Fernand  really  meant  to  kill  himself  he  would 
have  done  so  when  he  parted  from  Merced ds.  His  devotion, 
and  the  compassion  he  showed  for  her  misfortunes,  pro- 
duced the  effect  they  always  produce  on  noble  minds — Mer- 


112  THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRI8TO. 

cedes  had  always  had  a  sincere  regard  for  Fernand,  and 
this  was  now  strengthened  by  gratitude. 

"  My  brother/'  said  she,  as  she  placed  his  knapsack  on 
his  shoulders,  "  be  careful  of  yourself,  for  if  you  are  killed 
I  shall  be  alone  in  the  world."  These  words  infused  a  ray 
of  hope  jjn  Fernand's  heart.  Should  Dantes  not  return, 
Mercedes  night  one  day  be  his.  Mercedes  was  left  alone 
to  gaze  on  tUs  vast  plain  that  had  never  seemed  so  barren, 
and  the  sea  fcnat  had  never  seemed  so  vast. 

Sometimes  she  stood  mute  and  motionless  as  a  statue, 
gazing  toward  Marseilles;  at  other  times  gazing  on  the  sea, 
and  debating  as  to  whether  it  were  not  better  to  cast  her- 
self into  the  abyss  of  the  ocean,  and  thus  end  her  woes.  It 
was  not  want  of  courage  that  prevented  her  from  putting 
this  resolution  into  execution;  but  her  religious  feelings 
came  to  her  aid  and  saved  her.  Caderousse  was,  like  Fer- 
nand,  enrolled  in  the  army,  but,  being  married  and  eight 
years  older,  he  was  merely  sent  to  the  frontier.  Old 
Dautes,  who  was  only  sustained  by  hope,  lost  all  hope  at 
Napoleon's  downfall.  Five  months  after  he  had  been 
separated  from  his  son,  and  almost  at  the  very  hour  at 
which  he  was  arrested,  he  breathed  his  last  in  Mer- 
cedes' arms.  M.  Morrel  paid  the  expenses  of  his  funeral 
and  a  few  small  debts  the  poor  old  man  had  contracted. 

There  was  more  than  benevolence  in  this  action;  there 
was  courage  ;  for  to  assist,  even  on  his  death-bed,  the 
father  of  so  dangerous  a  Bonapartist  as  Dantes,  was  stig- 
matized as  a  crime. 


CHAPTER  XIV. 

THE     TWO     PRISONERS. 

A  TEAR  after  Louis  XVIIFs  restoration  a  visit  was 
made  by  the  inspector-general  of  prisons.  Dautes  heard 
from  the  recesses  of  his  cell  the  noises  made  by  the  prep- 
arations for  receiving  him  —  sounds  that  at  the  depth 
where  he  lay  would  have  been  inaudible  to  any  but  the  ear 
of  a  prisoner,  who  could  distinguish  the  plash  of  the  drop 
of  water  that  every  hour  fell  from  the  roof  of  his  dungeon. 
He  guessed  something  uncommon  was  passing  among  the 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO  H3 

living;  but  he  had  so  kmg  ceased  to  have  any  intercourse 
with  the  world  that  he  looked  upon  himself  as  dead. 

The  inspector  visited  the  cells  and  dungeons,  one  after 
another,  of  several  of  the  prisoners,  whose  good  behavior  or 
stupidity  recommended  them  to  the  clemency  o*  the  gov- 
erment;  he  inquired  how  they  were  fed  and  ^"they  had 
anything  to  demand.  The  universal  response  was  that  the 
fare  was  detestable  and  that  they  required  their  freedom. 

The  inspector  asked  if  they  had  anything  else  to  demand. 
They  shook  their  heads.  What  could  they  desire  beyond 
their  liberty? 

The  inspector  turned  smilingly  to  the  governor. 

"I  do  not  know  what  reason  the  government  can  assign 
for  these  useless  visits;  when  you  see  one  prisoner  you  see 
all — always  the  same  thing — ill-fed  and  innocent.  Are 
there  any  others  ?" 

"  Yes;  the  dangerous  and  mad  prisoners  are  in  the  dun- 
geons." 

"  Let  us  visit  them,"  said  the  inspector,  with  an  air  of 
fatigue.  "I  must  fulfill  my  mission.  Let  us  descend." 

"  Let  us  first  send  for  two  soldiers,"  said  the  governor. 
"The  prisoners  sometimes,  through  mere  uneasiness  of 
life  and  in  order  to  be  sentenced  to  death,  commit  acts  of 
useless  violence  and  you  might  fall  a  victim." 

"  Take  all  needful  precautions,"  replied  the  inspector. 

Two  soldiers  were  accordingly  sent  for,  and  the  inspector 
descended  a  stair  so  foul,  so  humid,  so  dark,  that  the  very 
sight  affected  the  eye,  the  smell  and  the  respiration. 

"Oh!"  cried  the  inspector,  "who  can  live  here?" 

"A  most  dangerous  conspirator,  a  man  we  are  ordered 
to  keep  the  most  strict  watch  over,  as  he  is  daring  and 
resolute." 

"He  is  alone?" 

"Certainly." 

"  How  long  has  he  been  there?" 

"Nearly  a  year." 

"Was  he  placed  here  when  he  first  arrived?" 

"  No,  not  until  he  attempted'  to  kill  the  turnkey." 

"To  kill  the  turnkey?" 

"Yes,  the  very  one  who  is  lighting  us.  Is  it  not  true, 
Antoine?"  asked  the  governor. 

"True  enough;  he  wanted  to  kill  me,"  replied  the 
turnkey. 


114  THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO. 

"  He  must  be  mad,"  said  the  inspector. 

"He  is  worse  than  that — he  is  a  devil!"  returned  the 
turnkey. 

"Shall  I  complain  of  him?"  demanded  the  inspector. 

"  Oh,  no;  it  is  useless.  Besides,  he  is  almost  mad  now, 
and  in  another  year  he  will  be  quite  so." 

"So  much  rhe  better  for  him — he  will  suffer  less/'  said 
the  inspector. 

He  was,  as  this  remark  shows,  a  man  full  of  philan- 
thropy, and  in  every  way  fit  for  his  office. 

"You  are  right,  sir,"  replied  the  governor;  "and  this 
remark  proves  that  you  have  deeply  considered  the  subject. 
Now,  we.  have  in  a  dungeon  about  twenty  feet  distant,  and 
to  which  you  descend  by  another  stair,  an  abbe,  ancient 
leader  of  a  party  in  Italy,  who  has  been  here  since  1811, 
and  in  1813  he  went  mad,  and  the  change  is  astonishing. 
He  used  to  weep — he  now  laughs;  he  grew  thin — he  now 
grows  fat.  You  had  better  see  him,  for  his  madness  is 
amusing." 

"I  will  see  them  both,"  returned  the  inspector,  "I 
must  conscientiously  perform  my  duty." 

This  was  the  inspector's  first  visit — he  wished  to  display 
his  authority. 

"  Let  us  visit  this  one  first,"  added  he. 

"Willingly,"  replied  the  governor;  and  he  signed  to  the 
turnkey  to  open  the  door. 

At  the  sound  of  the  key  turning  in  the  lock  and  the 
creaking  of  the  hinges,  Dantes,  who  was  crouched  in  a 
corner  of  the  dungeon,  raised  his  head.  At  the  sight  of  a 
stranger,  lighted  by  two  turnkeys,  accompanied  by  two 
soldiers,  and  to  whom  the  governor  spoke  bare-headed, 
Dantes,  who  guessed  the  truth,  and  that  the  moment  to 
address  himself  to  the  superior  authorities  was  come, 
sprang  forward  with  clasped  hands.  The  soldiers  presented 
their  bayonets,  for  they  thought  he  was  about  to  attack 
the  inspector,  and  the  latter  recoiled  two  or  three  steps. 
Dantes  saw  he  was  represented  as  a  dangerous  prisoner. 
Then,  infusing  all  the  humility  he  possessed  into  his  eyes 
and  voice,  he  addressed  the  inspector  and  sought  to  inspire 
him  with  pity.  The  inspector  listened  attentively.  Then, 
turning  to  the  governor,  observed: 

"He  will  become  religious;  he  is  already  more  gentle. 
He  is  afraid,  and  retreated  before  the  bayonets.  Madmen 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO.  H5 

are  not  afraid  of  anything.  I  made  some  curious  observa 
tions  on  this  at  Charenton." 

Then,  turning  to  the  prisoner: 

"What  do  you  demand?"  said  he. 

"What  crime  I  have  committed;  to  be  tried,  and,  if  I 
am  guilty,  may  be  shot;  if  innocent,  I  may  be  set  at 
liberty." 

"Are  you  well  fed?"  asked  the  inspector. 

"  I  believe  so — I  know  not,  but  that  matters  little;  what 
matters  really,  not  only  to  me,  but  to  every  one,  is  that  an 
innocent  man  should  languish  in  prison,  the  victim  of  an 
infamous  denunciation." 

"You  are  very  humble  to-day,"  remarked  the  governor; 
"you  are  not  so  always;  the  other  day,  for  instance,  when 
you  tried  to  kill  the  turnkey." 

"  It  is  true,  sir,  and  I  beg  his  pardon,  for  he  has  always 
been  very  good  to  me,  but  I  was  mad." 

"And  you  are  not  so  any  longer?" 

"  No;  captivity  has  subdued  me — I  have  been  here  so 
long." 

"So  long?  When  were  you  arrested,  then?"  asked  the 
inspector. 

"The  28th  of  February,  1815,  at  2:30  in  the  afternoon." 

"To-day  is  the  30th  of  June,  1816.  Why,  it  is  but 
seventeen  months." 

"  Only  seventeen  months!"  replied  Dantes.  "  Oh,  you 
do  not  know  what  is  seventeen  months  in  prison!  Seven- 
teen ages,  rather,  especially  to  a  man  who,  like  me,  had 
arrived  at  the  summit  of  his  ambition;  to  a  man  who,  like 
me,  was  on  the  point  of  marrying  a  woman  he  adored,  who 
saw  an  honorable  career  open  before  him,  and  who  loses  all 
in  an  instant;  who  sees  his  prospects  destroyed  and  is 
ignorant  of  the  fate  of  his  affianced:  wife  and  whether  his 
aged  father  be  still  living!  Seventeen  months'  captivity 
to  a  sailor  accustomed  to  the  boundless  ocean  is  a  worse 
punishment  than  human  crime  ever  merited.  Have  pity 
on  me,  then,  and  ask  for  me,  not  indulgence,  but  a  trial. 
Let  me  know  my  crime  and  my  sentence,  for  incertitude 
is  worse  than  all. 

"We  shall  see,"  said  the  inspector.  Then,  turning  to 
the  governor:  "  On  my  word,  the  poor  devil  touches  ine. 
You  must  show  me  the  proofs  against  him. 

"  Certainly;  but  you  will  find  terrible  notes  against  him." 


116  THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  VRI8TO. 

"Monsieur,"  continued  Dantes,  "I  know  it  is  not  in 
your  power  to  release  me;  but  you  can  plead  for  me;  you 
can  have  me  tried,  and  that  is  all  I  ask. 

"  Light  me,"  said  the  inspector. 

"  Monsieur,"  cried  Dantes,  "  I  can  tell  by  your  voice 
you  are  touched  with  pity.  Tell  me,  at  least,  to  hope." 

"I  cannot  tell  you  that,"  replied  the  inspector;  "  I  can 
only  promise  to  examine  into  your  case." 

"Oh,  I  am  free — then  I  am  saved!" 

"Who  arrested  you?" 

"  M.  Villefort.     See  him  and  hear  what  he  says." 

"M.  Villefort  is  no  longer  at  Marseilles;  he  is  now  at 
Toulouse." 

"  I  am  no  longer  surprised  at  my  detention,"  murmured 
Dantes,  "since  my  only  protector  is  removed." 

"Had  M.  de  Villefort  any  cause  of  personal  dislike  to 
you?" 

"None;  on  the  contrary,  he  was  very  kind  to  me." 

"  I  can,  then,  rely  on  the  notes  he  has  left  concerning 
you?" 

"Entirely." 

"  That  is  well.     Wait  patiently,  then." 

Dantes  fell  on  his  knees  and  prayed  earnestly.  The 
door  closed;  but  this  time  a  fresh  inmate  was  left  with 
Dantes — hope. 

"Will  you  see  the  register  at  once,"  asked  the  governor, 
"or  proceed  to  the  other  cell?" 

"  Let  us  visit  them  all,"  said  the  inspector.  "  If  I  once 
mounted  the  stairs  I  should  never  have  the  courage  to 
descend." 

"Ah,  this  one  is  not  like  the  other,  and  his  madness  is 
less  affecting  than  the  reason  of  his  neighbors." 

"What  is  his  folly?" 

"  He  fancies  he  possesses  an  immense  treasure.  The 
first  year  he  offered  the  government  1,000,000  francs 
(£40,000)  for  his  release;  the  second,  2,000,000  franes; 
the  third,  3,000,000  francs;  and  so  on  progressively.  He 
is  now  in  his  fifth  year  of  captivity;  he  will  ask  to  speak 
tc  you  in  private  and  offer  you  5,000,000  francs." 

"  How  curious!     What  is  his  name?" 

"  L'Abbe  Faria." 

"  No.  27,"  said  the  inspector. 

"  It  is  here;  unlock  the  door,  Antoine." 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRI8TO,  117 

The  turnkey  obeyed,  and  the  inspector  gazed  curiously 
into  the  chamber  of  the  mad  abbe.  In  the  center  of  the 
cell,  in  a  circle  traced  with  a  fragment  of  plaster  detached 
from  the  wall,  sat  a  man  whose  tattered  garments  scarcely 
covered  him.  He  was  drawing  in  this  circle  geometrical 
lines,  and  seemed  as  much  absorbed  in  his  problem  as 
Archimedes  when  the  soldier  of  Marcellus  slew  him.  He 
did  not  move  at  the  sound  of  the  door,  and  continued  his 
problem  until  the  flash  of  the  torches  lighted  up  with  an  un- 
wonted glare  the  somber  walls  of  his  cell;  then,  raising  his 
head,  he  perceived  with  astonishment  the  number  of  per- 
sons in  his  cell.  He  hastily  seized  the  coverlid  of  his  bed 
and  wrapped  it  round  him. 

"  What  do  you  demand?"  said  the  inspector. 

"  I,  monsieur!"  replied  the  abbe,  with  an  air  of  surprise. 
"  I  demand  nothing." 

"  You  do  not  understand,"  continued  the  inspector;  "  I 
am  sent  here  by  the  government  to  visit  the  prisoners  and 
hear  their  requests." 

"  Oh,  that  is  different,"  cried  the  abbe;  "  and  we  shall 
understand  each  other,  I  hope." 

"  There,  now,"  whispered  the  governor,  "  it  is  just  as  I 
told  you." 

"Monsieur,"  continued  the  prisoner,  "I  am  the  Abb6 
Faria,  born  at  Rome.  I  was  for  twenty  years  Cardinal 
Spada's  secretary;  I  was  arrested,  why  I  know  not,  in  1811; 
since  then  I  have  demanded  my  liberty  from  the  Italian 
and  French  governments." 

"  Why  from  the  French  government?" 

"Because  I  was  arrested  at  Piombino;  and  I  presume 
that,  like  Milan  and  Florence,  Piombino  has  become  the 
capital  of  some  French  department." 

"Ah!"  said  the  inspector,  "you  have  not  the  latest  in- 
telligence from  Italy." 

"They  date  from  the  day  on  which  I  was  arrested,"  re- 
turned the  Abbe  Faria;  "  and  as  the  emperor  had  created 
the  kingdom  of  Home  for  his  infant  son,  I  presume  that  he 
has  realized  the  dream  of  Machiayel  and  Caesar  Borgia, 
which  was  to  make  Italy  one  vast  kingdom." 

"  Monsieur,"  returned  the  inspector,  "  Providence  has 
changed  this  gigantic  plan  you  advocate  so  warmly." 

"It  is  the  only  means  of  rendering  Italy  iiappy  and 
independent." 

DUMAS — VOL.  I.— 6 


118  THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRI8TO. 

"Very  possibly,  only  I  am  not  coine  to  discuss  politics, 
but  to  inquire  if  you  have  anything  to  ask  or  to  com- 
plain of." 

"  The  food  is  the  same  as  in  other  prisons,  that  is,  very 
bad;  the  lodging  is  very  unwholesome,  but,  on  the  whole, 
passable  for  a  dungeon;  but  it  is  not  that  which  I  speak  of, 
but  a  secret  I  have  to  reveal  of  the  greatest  importance." 

"  We  are  coming  to  the  point,"  whispered  the  governor. 

"  It  is  for  that  reason  I  am  delighted  to  see  you,"  con- 
tinued the  abbe,  "  although  you  have  disturbed  me  in  a 
most  important  calculation,  which,  if  it  succeeded,  would 
possibly  change  Newton's  system.  Could  you  allow  me  a 
few  words  in  private?" 

"What  did  I  tell  you?"  said  the  governor. 

"  You  knew  him?"  returned  the  inspector. 

"  What  you  ask  is  impossible,  monsieur,"  continued  he, 
addressing  Faria. 

"  But,"  said  the  abbe,  "  I  would  speak  to  you  of  a  large 
sum,  amounting  to  5,000,000  francs." 

"  The  very  sum  you  named,"  whispered,  in  his  turn,  the 
inspector. 

"However,"  continued  Faria,  perceiving  the  inspector 
was  about  to  depart,  "it  is  not  absolutely  necessary  we 
should  be  alone;  monsieur  the  governor  can  be  present." 

"Unfortunately,"  said  the  governor,  "I  know  before- 
hand what  you  are  about  to  say;  it  concerns  your  treasures, 
does  it  not?" 

Faria  fixed  his  eyes  on  him  with  an  expression  that 
would  have  convinced  any  one  else  of  his  sanity. 

"  Doubtless,"  said  he;  "  of  what  else  should  I  speak?" 

"Monsieur  1'Inspecteur,"  continued  the  governor,  "I 
can  tell  you  the  story  as  well,  for  it  has  been  dinned  into 
my  ears  for  the  last  four  or  five  years." 

"  That  proves,"  returned  the  abbe,  "  that  you  are  like 
the  idols  of  holy  writ,  who  have  ears  and  hear  not." 

"  The  government  does  not  want  your  treasures,"  re- 
plied the  inspector;  "  keep  them  until  you  are  liberated." 
The  abbe's  eyes  glistened;  he  seized  the  inspector's  hand. 

"But  what  if  I  am  not  liberated,"  cried  he,  "  and  am 
detained  here  until  my  death?  Had  not  government  better 
profit  by  it?  I  will  offer  6,000,000  francs,  and  I  will  con- 
tent myself  with  the  rest." 

"  On  my  word,"  said  the  inspector,  in  a  low  tone,  "  had 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  GRI8TO.  119 

I  not  been  told  beforehand  this  man  was  mad,  I  should 
believe  what  he  says." 

"  I  am  not  mad,"  replied  Faria,  with  that  acuteness  of 
hearing  peculiar  to  prisoners.  "The  treasure  I  speak  of 
really  exists,  and  I  offer  to  sign  a  treaty  with  you,  in  which 
I  promise  to  lead  you  to  the  spot  you  shall  dig;  and  if  I 
deceive  you,  bring  me  here  again.  I  ask  no  more." 

The  governor  laughed. 

"  Is  the  spot  far  from  here?" 

"A  hundred  leagues." 

"It  is  not  a  bad  idea,"  said  the  governor. 

"  If  every  prisoner  took  it  into  his  head  to  travel  a  hun- 
dred leagues,  and  their  guardians  consented  to  accompany 
them,  they  would  have  a  capital  chance  of  escaping." 

"  The  scheme  is  well  known,"  said  the  governor;  "and 
M.  1'Abbe  has  not  even  the  merit  of  its  invention." 

Then  turning  to  Faria:  "  I  inquired  if  you  are  well 
fed?"  said  he. 

"Swear  to  me,"  replied  Faria,  "to  free  me  if  what  I 
tell  you  prove  true,  and  I  will  stay  here  while  you  go  to 
the  spot." 

"  Are  you  well  fed?"  repeated  the  inspector. 

"Monsieur,  you  run  no  risk,  for,  as  I  told  you,  I  will 
stay  here;  so  there  is  no  chance  of  my  escaping." 

"You  do  not  reply  to  my  question,"  replied  the  in- 
spector, impatiently. 

"  Nor  you  to  mine,"  cried  the  abbe.  "  You  will  not  ac- 
cept my  gold;  I  will  keep  it  for  myself.  You  refuse  me 
my  liberty;  God  will  give  it  me." 

And  the  abbe,  casting  away  his  coverlid,  resumed  his 
place  and  continued  his  calculations. 

"  What  is  he  doing  there?"  said  the  inspector. 

"  Counting  his  treasures,"  replied  the  governor. 

Faria  replied  to  this  sarcasm  by  a  glance  of  profound 
contempt. 

"  He  has  been  wealthy  once,  perhaps?"  said  the  in- 
spector. 

"  Or  dreamed  he  was  and  awoke  mad." 

"After  all,"  said  the  inspector,  "if  he  had  been  rich  he 
would  not  have  been  here."  Thus  finished  the  adventure 
of  the  Abbe  Faria.  He  remained  in  his  cell,  and  this  visit 
only  increased  the  belief  of  his  insanity. 

Caligula  or  Nero,  those  treasure-seekers,  those  desirers 


120  THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CR1STO. 

of  the  impossible,  would  have  accorded  to  the  poor  wretch, 
in  exchange  for  his  wealth,  the  liberty  and  the  air  he  so 
earnestly  prayed  for.  But  the  kings  of  modern  ages,  re- 
tained within  the  limits  of  probability,  have  neither  the 
courage  nor  the  desire.  They  fear  the  ear  that  hears  their 
orders  and  the  eye  that  scrutinizes  their  actions.  For- 
merly they  believed  themselves  sprung  from  Jupiter  and 
shielded  by  their  birth ;  but,  nowadays,  they  are  not 
inviolable. 

It  has  always  been  against  the  policy  of  despotic  govern- 
ments to  suffer  the  victims  of  their  policy  to  reappear.  As 
the  inquisition  rarely  suffered  its  victims  to  be  seen  with 
their  limbs  distorted  and  their  flesh  lacerated  by  torture, 
so  madness  is  always  concealed  in  its  cell,  from  whence, 
should  it  depart,  it  is  conveyed  to  some  gloomy  hospital, 
where  the  doctor  recognizes  neither  man  nor  mind  in  the 
mutilated  being  the  jailer  delivers  to  him.  The  very  mad- 
ness of  the  Abbe  Faria,  gone  mad  in  prison,  condemned 
him  to  perpetual  captivity. 

The  inspector  kept  his  word  with  Dantes;  he  examined 
the  register  and  found  the  following  note  concerning  him: 

"Edmond  Dantes:  Violent  Bonapartist;  took  an  active 
part  in  the  return  from  Elba.  The  greatest  watchfulness 
and  care  to  be  exercised/' 

This  note  was  in  a  different  hand  from  the  rest,  which 
proved  it  had  been  added  since  his  confinement.  The  in- 
spector could  not  contend  against  this  accusation ;  he 
simply  wrote:  "Nothing  to  be  done." 

This  visit  had  infused  new  vigor  into  Dantes;  he  had, 
till  then,  forgotten  the  date;  but  now,  with  a  fragment  of 
plaster,  he  wrote  the  date,  30th  of  July,  1816;  and  made  a 
mark  every  day,  in  order  not  to  lose  his  reckoning  again. 
Days  and  weeks  passed  away,  then  months — Dautes  still 
waited;  he  at  first  expected  to  be  freed  in  a  fortnight. 
This  fortnight  expired;  he  reflected  the  inspector  would  do 
nothing  until  his  return  to  Paris,  and  that  he  would  not 
reach  there  until  his  circuit  was  finished;  he,  therefore, 
fixed  three  months  ;  three  months  passed  away,  then  six 
more.  During  these  ten  months  no  favorable  change  had 
taken  place,  and  Dantes  began  to  fancy  the  inspector's 
visit  was  but  a  dream,  an  illusion  of  the  brain. 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO.  121 

At  the  expiration  of  a  year  the  governor  was  changed; 
he  had  obtained  the  government  of  Ham.  He  took  with 
him  several  of  his  subordinates,  and  among  them  Dantes' 
jailer.  A  fresh  governor  arrived;  it  would  have  been  too 
tedious  to  acquire  the  names  of  the  prisoners — he  learned 
their  number  instead.  This  horrible  place  consisted  of 
fifty  chambers;  their  inhabitants  were  designated  by  the 
number  of  their  chamber,  and  the  unhappy  young  man 
was  no  longer  called  Edmond  Dantes  —  he  was  now 
No.  34. 


CHAPTER  XV. 

NUMBER  34    AND    NUMBER   27. 

DANTES  passed  through  all  the  degrees  of  misfortune 
that  prisoners,  forgotten  in  their  dungeon,  suffer.  He 
commenced  with  pride  a  natural  consequence  of  hope  and 
a  consciousness  of  innocence,  then  he  began  to  doubt  his 
own  innocence,  which  justified  in  some  measure  the  gov- 
ernor's belief  in  his  mental  alienation,  and  then,  falling 
into  the  opposite  extreme,  he  supplicated,  not  heaven,  but 
his  jailer. 

Dantes  entreated  to  be  removed  from  his  present  dun- 
geon into  another;  for  a  change,  however  disadvantageous, 
was  still  a  change,  and  would  afford  him  some  amusement. 
He  entreated  to  be  allowed  to  walk  about,  to  have  books 
and  instruments.  Nothing  was  granted;  no  matter,  he 
asked  all  the  same.  He  accustomed  himself  to  speak  to 
his  fresh  jailer,  although  he  was,  if  possible,  more  taciturn 
than  the  former;  but  still,  to  speak  to  a  man,  even  though 
mute,  was  something.  Daut£s  spoke  for  the  sake  of  hear- 
ing his  own  voice;  he  had  tried  to  speak  when  alone,  but 
the  sound  of  his  voice  terrified  him.  Often,  before  his 
captivity,  Dantes'  mind  had  revolted  at  the  idea  of  those 
assemblages  of  prisoners,  composed  of  thieves,  vagabonds 
and  murderers.  He  now  wished  to  be  among  them,  in 
order  to  see  some  other  face  besides  that  of  his  jailer;  he 
sighed  for  the  galleys,  with  their  infamous  costume,  their 
chain  and  the  brand  on  the  shoulder.  The  galley-slaves 
breathed  the  fresh  air  of  heaven  and  saw  each  other. 
They  were  very  happy.  He  besought  the  jailer  one  day  to 
let  him  have  a  companion,  were  it  even  the  mad  abbe. 


122  THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO. 


The  jailer,  though  rude  and  hardened  by  the  constant 
sight  of  so  much  suffering,  was  yet  a  man.  At  the  bottom 
of  his  heart  he  had  often  compassionated  the  unhappy 
young  man  who  suffered  thus,  and  he  laid  the  request  of 
No.  34  before  the  governor,  but  the  latter  sapiently 
imagined  that  Dantes  wished  to  conspire  or  attempt  an 
escape,  and  refused  his  request.  Dantes  had  exhausted  all 
human  resources  and  he  then  turned  to  God. 

All  the  pious  ideas  that  had  been  so  long  forgotten  re- 
turned; he  recollected  the  prayers  his  mother  had  taught 
him  and  discovered  a  new  meaning  in  every  word;  for  in 
prosperity  prayers  seem  but  a  mere  assemblage  of  words, 
until  the  day  when  misfortune  comes  to  explain  to  the  un- 
happy sufferer  the  sublime  language  by  which  he  invokes 
the  pity  of  heaven!  He  prayed,  and  prayed  aloud,  no 
longer  terrified  at  the  sound  of  his  voice,  for  he  fell  into  a 
species  of  ecstasy.  He  laid  every  action  of  his  life  before  the 
Almighty,  proposed  tasks  to  accomplish  and  at  the  end  of 
every  prayer  introduced  the  entreaty  oftener  addressed  to 
man  than  to  God:  "Forgive  us  our  trespasses  as  we  for- 
give them  that  trespass  against  us."  Spite  of  his  earnest 
prayers  Dantes  remained  a  prisoner. 

Then  the  gloomy  feelings  took  possession  of  him.  He 
was  simple,  and  without  education;  he  could  not,  there 
fore,  in  the  solitude  of  his  dungeon,  and  of  his  own 
thoughts,  reconstruct  the  ages  that  had  passed,  reanimate 
the  nations  that  had  perished,  and  rebuild  the  ancient 
cities  that  imagination  renders  so  vast  and  stupendous, 
and  thus  pass  before  our  eyes,  illuminated  by  the  fires  of 
heaven,  as  in  Martin's  pictures.  He  could  not  do  this,  he 
whose  past  life  was  so  short,  whose  present  so  melancholy, 
and  his  future  so  doubtful.  Nineteen  years  of  light  to  re- 
flect upon  in  eternal  darkness.  No  distraction  could  come 
to  his  aid;  his  energetic  spirit,  that  would  have  exulted  in 
thus  revisiting  the  past,  was  imprisoned  like  an  eagle  in  a 
cage.  He  clung  to  one  idea — that  of  his  happiness,  de- 
stroyed, without  apparent  cause,  by  an  unheard-of  fatality; 
he  considered  and  reconsidered  this  idea,  devoured  it  (thus 
to  speak),  as  Ugoliuo  devours  the  skull  of  the  Archbishop 
Roger  in  the  Inferno  of  Dante. 

Rage  succeeded  in  this.  Dantes  uttered  blasphemies 
that  made  his  jailer  recoil  with  horror,  dashed  himself 
furiously  against  the  walls  of  his  prison,  attacked  every- 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO.  123 

thing,  and  chiefly  himself,  and  the  least  thing — a  grain  of 
sand,  a  straw,  or  a  breath  of  air — that  annoyed  him.  Then 
the  letter  he  had  seen  that  Villefort  had  showed  to  him  re- 
curred to  his  mind,  and  every  line  seemed  visible  in  fiery 
letters  on  the  wall,  like  the  Mene  Tekel  Upharsin  of 
Belshazzar.  He  said  that  it  was  the  vengeance  of  man, 
and  not  of  heaven,  that  had  thus  plunged  him  into  the 
deepest  misery.  He  devoted  these  unknown  persecutors 
to  the  most  horrible  tortures  he  could  imagine,  and  found 
them  all  insufficient,  because  after  torture  came  death, 
and  after  death,  if  not  repose,  at  least  that  insensibility 
that  resembles  it. 

By  dint  of  constantly  dwelling  on  the  idea  that  repose 
was  death,  and,  in  order  to  punish,  other  tortures  than 
death  must  be  invented,  he  began  to  reflect  on  suicide. 
Unhappy  he,  who,  on  the  brink  of  misfortune,  broods 
over  these  ideas! 

It  is  one  of  those  dead  seas  that  seem  clear  and  smooth 
to  the  eye;  but  he  who  unwarily  ventures  within  its  em- 
brace finds  himself  entangled  in  a  quagmire  that  attracts 
and  swallows  him.  Once  thus  ensnared,  unless  the  pro- 
tecting hand  of  God  snatch  him  thence,  all  is  over,  and 
his  struggles  but  tend  to  hasten  his  destruction.  This 
state  of  mental  anguish  is,  however,  less  terrible  than  the 
sufferings  that  precede,  and  the  punishment  that  awaits 
it — a  sort  of  consolation  that  points  to  the  yawning  abyss, 
at  the  bottom  of  which  is  darkness  and  obscurity. 

Edmond  found  some  solace  in  these  ideas.  All  his  sor- 
rows, all  his  sufferings,  with  their  train  of  gloomy  specters, 
fled  from  his  cell  when  the  angel  of  death  seemed  about 
to  enter.  Dantes  reviewed  with  composure  his  past  life, 
and,  looking  forward  with  terror  to  his  future  existence, 
chose  that  middle  line  that  seemed  to  afford  him  a  refuge. 

"  Sometimes/'  said  he,  "  in  my  voyages,  when  I  was  a 
man  and  commanded  other  men,  I  have  seen  the  heavens 
become  overcast,  the  sea  rage  and  foam,  the  storm  arise, 
and,  like  a  monstrous  bird,  cover  the  sky  with  its  wings. 
Then  I  felt  that  my  vessel  was  a  vain  refuge,  that  trembled 
and  shook  before  the  tempest.  Soon  the  fury  of  the  waves 
and  the  sight  of  the  sharp  rocks  announced  the  approach 
of  death,  and  death  then  terrified  me,  and  I  used  all  my 
skill  and  intelligence  as  a  man  and  a  sailor  to  escape.  But 
I  did  so  because  I  was  happy,  because  I  had  not  courted 


124  THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO. 

death,  because  this  repose  on  a  bed  of  rocks  and  seaweed 
seemed  terrible,  because  I  was  unwilling  that  I,  a  creature 
made  for  the  service  of  God,  should  serve  for  food  to  the 
gulls  and  ravens.  But  now  it  is  different;  I  have  lost  all 
that  bound  me  to  life;  death  smiles  and  invites  me  to  re- 
pose; I  die  after  my  own  manner,  I  die  exhausted  and 
broken-spirited,  as  I  fall  asleep  when  I  have  paced  3,000 
times  round  my  cell." 

No  sooner  had  this  idea  taken  possession  of  him  than  he 
became  more  composed,  arranged  his  couch  to  the  best  of 
his  power,  ate  little  and  slept  less,  and  found  this  exist- 
ence almost  supportable,  because  he  felt  he  could  throw 
it  off  at  pleasure,  like  a  worn-out  garment.  He  had  two 
means  of  dying;  the  one  was  to  hang  himself  with  his 
handkerchief  to  the  stanchions  of  the  window;  the  other, 
to  refuse  food  and  starve  himself.  But  the  former  means 
were  repugnant  to  him.  Dantes  had  always  entertained 
the  greatest  horror  of  pirates,  who  are  hung  up  to  the  yard- 
arm;  he  would  not  die  by  what  seemed  an  infamous  death. 
He  resolved  to  adopt  the  second,  and  began  that  day  to 
execute  his  resolve.  Nearly  four  years  had  passed  away; 
at  the  end  of  the  second  he  had  ceased  to  mark  the  lapse 
of  time. 

Dantes  said,  "I  wish  to  die/'  and  had  chosen  the  man- 
ner of  his  death;  and,  fearful  of  changing  his  mind,  he  had 
taken  an  oath  to  die.  "  When  my  morning  and  evening 
meals  are  brought,"  thought  he,  "  I  will  cast  them  out  of 
the  window,  and  I  shall  be  believed  to  have  eaten  them." 

He  kept  his  word;  twice  a  day  he  cast  out,  by  the  barred 
aperture,  the  provisions  his  jailer  brought  him — at  first 
gayly,  then  with  deliberation,  and  at  last  with  regret. 
Nothing  but  the  recollection  of  his  oath  gave  him  strength 
to  proceed.  Hunger  render  these  viands,  once  so  repug- 
nant, acceptable  to  him;  he  held  the  plate  in  his  hand  for 
an  hour  at  a  time  and  gazed  on  the  morsel  of  bad  meat, 
of  tainted  fish,  of  black  and  moldy  bread.  It  was  the 
last  struggle  of  life,  which  occasionally  vanquished  his  re- 
solve; then  his  dungeon  seemed  less  somber,  his  prospects  less 
desperate.  He  was  still  young — he  was  only  f  ou  r  or  five-and- 
twenty — he  had  nearly  fifty  years  to  live.  What  unfore- 
seen events  might  not  open  his  prison  door  and  restore 
him  to  liberty?  Then,  he  raised  to  his  lips  the  repast 
that,  like  a  voluntary  Tantalus,  he  refused  himself;  but  he 


THE  CO  UNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO.  135 

thought  of  his  oath,  and  he  would  not  break  it.  He  per- 
sisted until,  at  last,  he  had  not  sufficient  force  to  cast  his 
supper  out  of  the  loop-hole.  The  next  morning  he  could 
not  see  or  hear;  the  jailer  feared  he  was  dangerously  ill. 
Edmond  hoped  he  was  dying. 

The  day  passed  away  thus;  Edmond  felt  a  species  of 
stupor  creeping  over  him;  the  gnawing  pain  at  his  stomach 
had  ceased;  his  thirst  had  abated;  when  he  closed  his  eyes 
he  saw  myriads  of  lights  dancing  before  them,  like  the 
meteors  that  play  about  the  marshes.  It  was  the  twilight 
of  that  mysterious  country  called  death  ! 

Suddenly,  about  9  o'clock  in  the  evening,  Edmond 
heard  a  hollow  sound  in  the  wall  against  which  he  was  lying. 

So  many  loathsome  animals  inhabited  the  prison  that 
their  noise  did  not,  in  general,  awake  him,  but  whether 
abstinence  had  quickened  his  faculties,  or  whether  the 
noise  was  really  louder  than  usual,  Edmoud  raised  his  head 
and  listened.  It  was  a  continual  scratching,  as  if  made 
by  a  huge  claw,  a  powerful  tooth,  or  some  iron  instrument 
attacking  the  stones. 

Although  weakened,  the  young  man's  brain  instantly 
recurred  to  the  idea  that  haunts  all  prisoners — liberty  I  It 
seemed  to  him  that  heaven  had  at  length  taken  pity  on 
him  and  had  sent  this  noise  to  warn  him  on  the  very 
brink  of  the  abyss.  Perhaps  one  of  those  beloved  ones  he 
had  so  often  thought  of  was  thinking  of  him  and  striving 
to  diminish  the  distance  that  separated  them. 

No!  no!  doubtless  he  was  deceived,  and  it  was  but  one  of 
those  dreams  that  forerun  death  ! 

Edmond  still  heard  the  sound.  It  lasted  nearly  three 
hours;  he  then  heard  a  noise  of  something  falling,  and  all 
was  silent. 

Some  hours  afterward  it  began  nearer  and  more  dis- 
tinct; Edmond  became  already  interested  in  that  labor, 
when  the  jailer  entered. 

For  a  week  that  he  had  resolved  to  die,  and  for  four 
days  that  he  put  this  resolution  into  execution,  Edmond 
had  not  spoken  to  this  man,  had  not  answered  him  when 
he  inquired  what  was  the  matter  witli  him,  and  turned 
his  face  to  the  wall  when  he  looked  too  curiously  at  him; 
but  now  the  jailer  might  hear  this  noise  and  put  an  end  to 
it,  thus  destroying  a  ray  of  something  like  hope  that 
soothed  his  last  moments. 


126  THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO. 

The  jailer  brought  him  his  breakfast.  Dantes  raised 
himself  up  and  began  to  speak  on  everything;  on  the  bad 
quality  of  his  food,  on  the  coldness  of  his  dungeon,  grum- 
bling and  complaining,  in  order  to  have  an  excuse  for  speak- 
ing louder,  and  wearying  the  patience  of  his  jailer,  who  had 
solicited  some  broth  and  white  bread  for  his  prisoner,  and 
who  had  brought  it. 

Fortunately  he  fancied  Dantes  was  delirious;  and,  plac- 
ing his  food  on  the  rickety  table,  he  withdrew.  Edmond 
listened,  and  the  sound  became  more  and  more  distinct. 

There  can  be  no  doubt,  thought  he,  it  is  some  prisoner 
who  is  striving  to  obtain  his  freedom.  Suddenly  another 
idea  took  possession  of  his  mind,  so  used  to  misfortune, 
that  it  could  scarcely  understand  hope;  yet  this  idea  pos- 
sessed him,  that  the  noise  arose  from  the  workmen  the 
governor  had  ordered  to  repair  the  neighboring  dungeon. 

It  was  easy  to  ascertain  this;  but  how  could  he  risk  the 
question?  It  was  easy  to  call  his  jailer's  attention  to  the 
noise  and  watch  his  countenance  as  he  listened;  but  might 
he  not  by  this  means  betray  interests  far  more  precious 
than  this  short-lived  satisfaction?  Unfortunately,  Edmond's 
brain  was  still  so  feeble  that  he  could  not  bend  his  thoughts 
to  anything  in  particular. 

He  saw  but  one  means  of  restoring  lucidity  and  clearness 
to  his  judgment.  He  turned  his  eyes  toward  the  soup  his 
jailer  had  brought  him,  rose,  staggered  toward  it,  raised 
the  vessel  to  his  lips,  and  drank  off  the  contents  with 
a  feeling  of  indescribable  pleasure.  He  had  often  heard 
that  shipwrecked  persons  had  died  through  having  eagerly 
devoured  too  much  food;  Edmond  replaced  on  the  table 
the  bread  he  was  about  to  devour,  and  returned  to  his 
couch — he  did  not  wish  to  die.  He  soon  felt  that  his 
ideas  became  again  collected  —  he  could  think,  and 
strengthen  his  thoughts  by  reasoning.  Then  he  said  to 
himself:  "  I  must  put  this  to  the  test,  but  without  com- 
promising anybody.  If  it  is  a  workman,  I  need  but  knock 
against  the  wall,  and  he  will  cease  to  work,  in  order  to  find 
out  who  is  knocking,  and  why  he  does  so;  but  as  his  occu- 
pation is  sanctioned  by  the  governor  he  will  soon  resume 
it.  If,  on  the  contrary,  it  is  a  prisoner,  the  noise  I  make 
will  alarm  him,  he  will  cease,  and  not  recommence  until 
he  thinks  every  one  is  asleep." 

Edmoud  rose  again,  but  this  time  his  legs  did  not  trem- 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO.  127 

ble,  ana  his  eyes  were  free  from  mists;  he  advanced  to  a 
corner  of  his  dungeon,  detached  a  stone,  and  with  it 
knocked  against  the  wall  where  the  sound  came.  He 
struck  thrice.  At  the  first  blow  the  sound  ceased,  as  if  by 
magic. 

Edmond  listened  intently;  an  hour  passed,  two  hours 
passed,  and  no  sound  was  heard  from  the  wall — all  was 
silent  there. 

Full  of  hope,  Edmond  swallowed  a  few  mouthfuls  of 
bread  and  water,  and,  thanks  to  the  excellence  of  his  con- 
stitution, found  himself  well-nigh  recovered. 

The  day  passed  away  in  utter  silence — night  came  with- 
out the  noise  having  recommenced. 

"  It  is  a  prisoner,"  said  Edmond,  joyfully.  The  night 
passed  in  perfect  silence.  Edmond  did  not  close  his  eyes. 

In  the  morning  the  jailer  brought  him  fresh  provisions — 
he  had  already  devoured  those  of  the  previous  day;  he  ate 
these,  listening  anxiously  for  the  sound,  walking  round  and 
round  his  coll,  shaking  the  iron  bars  of  the  loop-hole,  re- 
storing by  exercise  vigor  and  agility  to  his  limbs,  and  pre- 
paring himself  thus  for  his  future  destiny.  At  intervals 
he  listened  if  the  noise  had  not  begun  again,  and  grew  im- 
patient at  the  prudence  of  the  prisoner,  who  did  not  guess 
he  had  been  disturbed  by  a  captive  as  anxious  for  liberty  as 
himself. 

Three  days  passed — seventy-two  long  tedious  hours! 

At  length  one  evening,  as  the  jailer  was  visiting  him  for 
the  last  time  that  night,  Dant&s  fancied  he  heard  an 
almost  imperceptible  movement  among  the  stones.  Ed- 
mond recoiled  from  the  wall,  walked  up  and  down  his  cell 
to  collect  his  thoughts,  and  replaced  his  ear  against  the 
wall. 

There  could  be  no  doubt  something  was  passing  on  the 
other  side;  the  prisoner  had  discovered  the  danger  and 
had  substituted  the  lever  for  the  chisel. 

Encouraged  by  this  discovery,  Edmond  determined  to 
assist  the  indefatigable  laborer.  He  began  by  moving  his 
bed,  and  sought  with  his  eyes  for  anything  with  which  he 
could  pierce  the  wall,  penetrate  the  cement,  and  displace  a 
stone. 

He  saw  nothing,  he  had  no  knife  or  sharp  instrument, 
the  grating  of  his  window  alone  was  of  iron,  and  he  had 
too  often  assured  himself  of  its  solidity.  All  his  furniture 


128  THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO. 

consisted  of  a  bed,  a  chair,  a  table,  a  pail,  and  a  jug. 
The  bed  had  iron  clamps,  but  they  were  screwed  to  the 
wood,  and  it  would  have  required  a  screw-driver  to  take 
them  off.  The  table  and  chair  had  nothing,  the  pail  had 
had  a  handle,  but  that  had  been  removed. 

Dantes  had  but  one  resource,  which  was  to  break  the  jug, 
and  with  one  of  the  sharp  fragments  attack  the  wall.  He 
let  the  jug  fall  on  the  floor  and  it  broke  in  pieces. 

Dantes  concealed  two  or  three  of  the  sharpest  fragments 
in  his  bed,  leaving  the  rest  on  the  floor.  The  breaking  of 
his  jug  was  too  natural  an  accident  to  excite  suspicion. 
Edmond  had  all  the  night  to  work  in,  but  in  the  darkness 
he  could  not  do  much,  and  he  soon  felt  his  instrument  was 
blunted  against  something  hard;  he  pushed  back  his  bed 
and  awaited  the  day. 

All  night  he  heard  the  subterranean  workman,  who  con- 
tinued to  mine  his  way.  The  day  came,  the  jailer  entered. 
Dantes  told  him  the  jug  had  fallen  from  his  hands  in 
drinking,  and  the  jailer  went  grumblingly  to  fetch  another, 
without  giving  himself  the  trouble  to  remove  the  fragments 
of  the  broken  one.  He  returned  speedily,  recommended 
the  prisoner  to  be  more  careful,  and  departed. 

Dantes  heard  joyfully  the  key  grate  in  the  lock,  he  list- 
ened until  the  sound  of  steps  died  away,  and  then,  hastily 
displacing  his  bed,  saw  by  the  faint  light  that  penetrated 
into  his  cell,  that  he  had  labored  uselessly  the  previous 
evening  in  attacking  the  stone  instead  of  removing  the 
plaster  that  surrounded  it. 

The  damp  had  rendered  it  friable,  and  Dantes  saw  joy- 
fully the  plaster  detach  itself;  in  small  morsels,  it  is  true; 
but  at  the  end  of  half  an  hour  he  had  scraped  off  a  hand- 
ful; a  mathematician  might  have  calculated  that  in  two 
years,  supposing  that  the  rock  was  not  encountered,  a 
passage,  twenty  feet  long  and  two  feet  broad,  might  be 
formed. 

The  prisoner  reproached  himself  with  not  having  thus 
employed  the  hours  he  had  passed  in  prayers  and  despair. 
In  six  years  (the  space  he  had  been  confined)  what  might 
he  not  have  accomplished? 

In  three  days  he  had  succeeded,  with  the  utmost  pre- 
caution, in  removing  the  cement  and  exposing  the  stone; 
the  wall  was  formed  of  rough  stones,  to  give  solidity  to 
which  were  embedded,  at  intervals,  blocks  of  hewn  stone. 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRI8TO.  129 

It  was  one  of  these  he  had  uncovered  and  which  he  must 
remove  from  its  sockets. 

Dantes  strove  to  do  so  with  his  nails,  but  they  were  too 
weak.  The  fragments  of  the  jug  broke,  and  after  an  hour 
of  useless  toil  Dantes  paused. 

Was  he  to  be  thus  stopped  at  the  beginning,  and  was  he 
to  wait  inactive  until  his  fellow- workmen  had  completed 
his  toils?  Suddenly  an  idea  occurred  to  him,  he  smiled, 
and  the  perspiration  dried  on  his  forehead. 

The  jailer  always  brought  Daiites'  soup  in  an  iron 
saucepan;  this  saucepan  contained  the  soup  of  a  second 
prisoner;  for  Dantes  had  remarked  that  it  was  either  quite 
full  or  half  empty,  according  as  the  turnkey  gave  it  to  him- 
self or  his  companion  first. 

The  handle  of  this  saucepan  was  of  iron;  Dantds  would 
have  given  ten  years  of  his  life  in  exchange  for  it. 

The  jailer  poured  the  contents  of  this  saucepan  into 
Dantes'  plate,  who,  after  eating  his  soup  with  a  wooden 
spoon,  washed  the  plate,  which  thus  served  for  every  day. 
In  the  evening  Dantes  placed  his  plate  on  the  ground  near 
the  door;  the  jailer,  as  he  entered,  stepped  on  it  and 
broke  it. 

This  time  he  could  not  blame  Dantes.  He  was  wrong  to 
leave  it  there,  but  the  jailer  was  wrong  not  to  have  looked 
before  him. 

The  jailer,  therefore,  contented  himself  with  grumbling. 
Then  he  looked  about  for  something  to  pour  the  soup  into; 
Dantes'  whole  furniture  consisted  of  one  plate;  there  was 
no  alternative. 

"  Leave  the  saucepan,"  said  Dant^s;  "  you  can  take  it 
away  when  you  bring  me  my  breakfast." 

This  advice  was  to  the  jailer's  taste,  as  it  spared  him  the 
necessity  of  ascending,  descending  and  ascending  again. 
He  left  the  saucepan. 

Dantes  was  beside  himself  with  joy.  He  rapidly  de- 
voured his  food,  and,  after  waiting  an  hour,  lest  the  jailer 
should  change  his  mind  and  return,  he  removed  his  bed, 
took  the  handle  of  the  saucepan,  inserted  the  point  be- 
tween the  hewn  stone  and  rough  stones  of  the  wall,  and 
employed  it  as  a  lever.  A  slight  oscillation  showed  Dantds 
all  went  well.  At  the  end  of  an  hour  the  stone  was  extri- 
cated from  the  wall,  leaving  a  cavity  of  a  foot  and  a  half  in 
diameter. 


130  THE  CO  UNT  OF  MONTE  GRI8TO. 

Dantes  carefully  collected  the  plaster,  carried  it  into  the 
corners  of  his  cell  and  covered  it  with  earth.  Then,  wish- 
ing to  make  the  best  use  of  this  night,  in  which  chance,  or 
rather  his  own  stratagem,  had  placed  so  precious  an  instru- 
ment in  his  hands,  he  continued  to  work  without  ceasing. 
At  the  dawn  of  day  he  replaced  the  stone,  pushed  his  bed 
against  the  wall  and  lay  down.  The  breakfast  consisted  of 
a  piece  of  bread;  the  jailer  entered  and  placed  the  bread 
on  the  table. 

"  Well,  you  do  not  bring  me  another  plate,"  said 
Dantes. 

"  No,"  replied  the  turnkey,  "  you  destroy  everything. 
First  you  break  your  jug,  then  you  make  me  break  your 
plate;  if  all  the  prisoners  followed  your  example  the  gov- 
ernment would  be  ruined.  I  shall  leave  you  the  saucepan 
and  pour  your  soup  into  that.  So,  for  the  future,  I  hope 
you  will  not  be  so  destructive  to  your  furniture." 

Dantes  raised  his  eyes  to  heaven,  clasped  his  hands  be- 
neath the  coverlid  and  prayed.  He  felt  more  gratitude  for 
the  possession  of  this  piece  of  iron  than  he  had  ever  felt  for 
anything.  He  had,  however,  remarked  that  the  prisoner 
on  the  other  side  had  ceased  to  labor;  no  matter,  this  was 
a  greater  reason  for  proceeding;  if  his  neighbor  would  not 
come  to  him,  he  would  go  to  him.  All  day  he  toiled  on 
untiringly,  and  by  the  evening  he  had  succeded  in  extract- 
ing ten  handfuls  of  plaster  and  fragments  of  stone.  When 
the  hour  for  his  jailer's  visit  arrived  Dantes  straightened 
the  handle  of  the  saucepan  as  well  as  he  could  and  placed 
it  in  its  accustomed  place.  The  turnkey  poured  his  ration 
of  soup  into  it,  together  with  the  fish,  for  thrice  a  week 
the  prisoners  were  made  to  abstain  from  meat;  this  would 
have  been  a  method  of  reckoning  time  had  not  Dantes 
long  ceased  to  do  so.  Having  poured  out  the  soup,  the 
turnkey  retired.  Dantes  wished  to  ascertain  whether  his 
neighbor  had  really  ceased  to  work.  He  listened;  all  was 
silent,  as  it  had  been  for  the  last  three  days.  Dantes 
sighed;  it  was  evident  that  his  neighbor  distrusted  him. 
However,  he  toiled  on  all  the  night  without  being  discour- 
aged, but  after  two  or  three  hours  he  encountered  an  ob- 
stacle. The  iron  made  no  impression,  but  met  with  a 
smooth  surface;  Dantes  touched  it  and  found  it  was  a 
beam.  This  beam  crossed,  or  rather  blocked  up,  the  hole 
Dantes  had  made;  it  was  necessary,  therefore,  to  dig  above 


THE  CO  UNT  OF  MONTE  GRI8TO.  131 

or  under  it.     The  unhappy  young  man  had  not  thought  of 
this. 

"Oh,  my  God!  my  God!"  murmured  he,  "I  have  so 
earnestly  prayed  to  You  that  I  hoped  my  prayers  had  been 
heard.  After  having  deprived  me  of  my  liberty,  after  hav- 
ing deprived  me  of  death,  after  having  recalled  me  to  ex- 
istence, my  God !  have  pity  on  me,  and  do  not  let  me  die 
in  despair. " 

"  Who  talks  of  God  and  despair  at  the  same  time?"  said 
a  voice  that  seemed  to  come  from  beneath  the  earth,  and, 
deadened  by  the  distance,  sounded  hollow  and  sepulchral 
in  the  young  man's  ears.  Edmond's  hair  stood  on  end,  and 
he  rose  on  his  knees. 

"  Ah!"  said  he,  "  I  hear  a  human  voice."  Edmond  had 
not  heard  any  one  speak  save  his  jailer  for  four  or  five 
years,  and  a  jailer  is  not  a  man  to  a  prisoner — he  is  a  living 
door  added  to  his  door  of  oak;  a  barrier  of  flesh  and  blood 
added  to  his  barriers  of  iron. 

"  In  the  name  of  heaven,"  cried  Dantes,  "  speak  again, 
though  the  sound  of  your  voice  terrifies  me." 
'  Who  are  you  ?"  said  the  voice. 

'  An  unhappy  prisoner,"  replied  Dantes,  who  made  no 
hesitation  in  answering. 
Of  what  country?" 
A  Frenchman. 
Your  name?" 
Edmond  Dantes." 
'  Your  profession?" 
A  sailor." 

How  long  have  you  been  hereP' 
<  Since  the  28th  of  February,  1815." 
Your  crime?" 
I  am  innocent." 

'  But  of  what  are  you  accused?" 
'  Of  having  conspired  to  aid  the  emperor's  return." 
'How  for  the  emperor's  return?    The  emperor  is  no 
longer  on  the  throne,  then?" 

"  He  abdicated  at  Fontainebleau  in  1814  and  was  sent 
to  the  Island  of  Elba.     But  how  long  have  you  been  here 
that  you  are  ignorant  of  all  this?" 
"  Since  1811." 

Dantes  shuddered  ;  this  man  had  been  four  years  longer 
than  himself  in  prison. 


132  THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CEISTO. 

"  Do  not  dig  any  more,"  said  the  voice  ;  "  only  tell  me 
how  high  up  is  your  excavation  ?" 

"  On  a  level  with  the  floor. " 

"How  is  it  concealed?" 

"Behind  my  bed." 

"  Has  your  bed  been  moved  since  you  have  been  a 
prisoner?'* 

"No." 

"  What  does  your  chamber  open  on?" 

"A  corridor." 

"And  the  corridor?" 

"On  a  court." 

" Alas  !"  murmured  the  voice. 

"Oh,  what  is  the  matter?"  cried  Dantes. 

"I  am  deceived,  and  the  imperfection  of  my  plans  has 
ruined  all.  An  error  of  a  line  in  the  plan  has  been  equiv- 
alent to  fifteen  feet  in  reality,  and  I  took  the  wall  you  are 
mining  for  the  wall  of  the  fortress." 

"  But  then  you  were  close  to  the  sea?" 

"  That  is  what  I  hoped." 

"And  supposing  you  succeeded?" 

"I  should  have  thrown  myself  into  the  sea,  gained  one 
of  the  islands  near  here — the  Isle  de  Daume  or  the  Isle  de 
Tiboulen — and  then  I  was  safe." 

"  Could  you  have  swimmed  so  far?" 

"  Heaven  would  have  given  me  strength  ;  but  now  all  is 
lost." 

"All?" 

"  Yes;  stop  up  your  excavation  carefully;  do  not  work 
any  more,  and  wait  until  you  hear  from  me." 

"  Tell  me,  at  least,  who  you  are?" 

"  I  am— I  am  No.  27." 

"You  mistrust  me,  then?"  said  Dantes. 

Edmond  fancied  he  heard  a  bitter  laugh  proceed  from 
the  unknown. 

"  Oh,  I  am  a  Christian,"  cried  Dantes,  guessing  instinct- 
ively that  this  man  meant  to  abandon  him.  "I  swear  to  you 
by  Him  who  died  for  us  that  nought  shall  induce  me  to 
breathe  one  syllable  to  my  jailers;  but,  I  conjure  you,  do  not 
abandon  me.  If  you  do,  I  swear  to  you  that  I  will  dash 
my  brains  out  against  the  wall,  and  you  will  have  my  death 
to  reproach  yourself  with." 

"  How  old  are  you  ?  Your  voice  is  that  of  a  young 
man." 


THE  GOUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO.  133 

"  I  do  not  know  my  age,  for  I  have  not  counted  the 
years  I  have  been  here.  All  I  do  know  is  that  I  was  just  19 
when  I  was  arrested,  the  28th  of  February,  1815." 

"  Not  quite  26!"  murmured  the  voice;  "  at  that  age  he 
cannot  be  a  traitor." 

"Oh!  no,  no!"  cried  Dantes.  "I  swear  to  you  again, 
rather  than  betray  you  they  shall  hew  me  to  pieces!" 

"  You  have  done  well  to  speak  to  me  and  entreat  me, 
for  I  was  about  to  form  another  plan  and  leave  you;  but 
your  age  reassures  me.  I  will  not  forget  you.  Expect  me. " 

"When?" 

"  I  must  calculate  our  chances;  I  will  give  you  the 
signal." 

"  But  you  will  not  leave  me;  you  will  come  to  me,  or 
you  will  let  me  come  to  you.  We  will  escape,  and  if  we 
cannot  escape  we  will  talk;  you  of  those  whom  you  love 
and  I  of  those  whom  I  love.  You  must  love  somebody?" 

"  No,  I  am  not  alone  in  the  world." 

"  Then  you  will  love  me.  If  you  are  young,  I  will  be 
your  comrade;  if  you  are  old,  I  will  be  your  son.  I  have 
a  father  who  is  70  if  he  yet  lives ;  I  only  love  him  and 
a  young  girl  called  Mercedes.  My  father  has  not  yet  for- 
gotten me,  I  am  sure;  but  God  alone  knows  if  she  loves  me 
still.  I  shall  love  you  as  I  loved  my  father." 

"  It  is  well,"  returned  a  voice;  "  to-morrow." 

These  few  words  were  uttered  with  an  accent  that  left 
no  doubt  of  his  sincerity;  Dantes  rose,  dispersed  the  frag- 
ments with  the  same  precaution  as  before,  and  pushed 
back  his  bed  against  the  wall.  He  then  gave  himself  up 
to  his  happiness;  he  would  no  longer  be  alone.  He  was, 
perhaps,  about  to  regain  his  liberty;  at  the  worst  he  would 
have  a  companion;  and  captivity  that  is  shared  is  but  half 
captivity. 

All  day  Dantes  walked  up  and  down  his  cell.  He  sat 
down  occasionally  on  his  bed,  pressing  his  hand  on  his 
heart.  At  the  slightest  noise  he  bounded  toward  the  door. 
Once  or  twice  the  thought  crossed  his  mind  that  he  might 
be  separated  from  this  unknown,  whom  lie  loved  already; 
and  then  his  mind  was  made  up — when  the  jailer  moved 
his  bed  and  stooped  to  examine  the  opening  he  would  kill 
him  with  his  water  jug.  He  would  be  condemned  to  die, 
but  he  was  about  to  die  of  grief  and  despair  when  this 
miraculous  noise  recalled  him  to  life. 


134  THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO. 

The  jailer  came  in  the  evening;  Dantes  was  on  his  bed. 
It  seemed  to  him  that  thus  he  better  guarded  the  un- 
finished opening.  Doubtless  there  was  a  strange  expression 
in  his  eyes,  for  the  jailer  said:  "  Come,  are  you  going  mad 
again?*' 

Dantes  did  not  answer ;  he  feared  the  emotion  of  his 
voice  would  betray  him.  The  jailer  retired,  shaking  his 
head.  The  night  came  ;  Dantes  hoped  that  his  neighbor 
would  profit  by  the  silence  to  address  him,  but  he  was 
mistaken.  The  next  morning,  however,  just  as  he  re- 
moved his  bed  from  the  wall,  he  heard  three  knocks ;  he 
threw  himself  on  his  knees. 

"  Is  it  you?"  said  he,  "I  am  here." 

"  Is  your  jailer  gone?" 

"  Yes,"  said  Dantes;  "he  will  not  return  until  the  even- 
ing; so  that  we  have  twelve  hours  before  us." 

"  I  can  work,  then,"  said  the  voice. 

"Oh  yes,  yes,  this  instant  I  entreat  you." 

In  an  instant  the  portion  of  the  floor  on  which  Dante's 
(half-buried  in  the  opening)  was  leaning  his  two  hands, 
gave  way;  he  cast  himself  back,  while  a  mass  of  stones  and 
earth  disappeared  in  a  hole  that  opened  beneath  the 
aperture  he  himself  had  formed.  Then,  from  the  bottom 
of  this  passage,  the  depth  of  which  it  was  impossible  to 
measure,  he  saw  appear,  first  the  head,  then  the  shoulders, 
and  lastly  the  body  of  a  man,  who  sprang  lightly  into  his 
cell. 


CHAPTEE  XVI. 

A     LEARNED     ITALIAN. 

BUSHING  toward  the  friend  so  long  and  ardently  de- 
sired, Daiites  almost  carried  him  toward  the  window  in 
order  to  obtain  a  better  view  of  his  features  by  the  aid  of 
the  imperfect  light  that  struggled  through  the  grating  of 
the  prison. 

He  was  a  man  of  small  stature,  with  hair  blanched  rather 
by  suffering  and  sorrow  than  years.  A  deep-set,  penetrat- 
ing eye,  almost  buried  beneath  the  thick,  gray  eyebrow, 
and  a  long  (and  still  black)  beard  reaching  down  to  his 
breast. 


THE  CO  UNT  OF  MONTE  ORI8TO.  135 

The  meagerness  of  his  face,  deeply  furrowed  by  care, 
joined  to  the  bold  outline  of  his  strongly  marked  features, 
announced. a  man  more  accustomed  to  exercise  his  moral 
faculties  than  his  physical  strength.  Large  drops  of  per- 
spiration were  now  standing  on  his  brow,  while  his  gar- 
ments hung  about  him  in  such  rags  as  to  render  it  useless 
to  form  a  guess  as  to  their  primitive  description. 

The  stranger  might  have  numbered  60  or  65  years;  but 
a  certain  briskness  and  appearance  of  vigor  in  his  move- 
ments made  it  probable  that  he  was  aged  more  from  cap- 
tivity than  the  course  of  time.  He  received  the  enthusias- 
tic greeting  of  his  young  acquaintance  with  evident  pleas- 
ure, as  though  his  chilled  affections  seemed  rekindled  and 
invigorated  by  his  contact  with  one  so  warm  and  ardent. 
He  thanked  him  with  grateful  cordiality  for  his  kindly 
welcome,  although  he  must  at  that  moment  have  been 
suffering  bitterly  to  find  another  dungeon  where  he  had 
fondly  reckoned  on  discovering  a  means  of  regaining  his 
liberty. 

"  Let  us  first  see,"  said  he,  "  whether  it  is  possible  to 
remove  the  traces  of  my  entrance  here — our  future 
comforts  depend  upon  our  jailers  being  entirely  ignorant 
of  it." 

Advancing  to  the  opening,  he  stooped  and  raised  a  stone 
as  easily  as  though  it  had  not  weighed  an  ounce;  then, 
fitting  it  into  its  place,  he  said: 

"  You  removed  this  stone  very  carelessly;  but  I  suppose 
you  had  no  tools  to  aid  you." 

"Why,"  exclaimed  Dautes,  with  astonishment,  "do 
you  possess  any?" 

"  I  made  myself  some;  and,  with  the  exception  of  a  file, 
I  have  all  that  are  necessary  —  a  chisel,  pincers  and 
lever." 

"  Oh,  how  I  should  like  to  see  these  products  of  your 
industry  and  patience." 

"  Well,  in  the  first  place,  here  is  my  chisel."  So  say- 
ing, he  displayed  a  sharp,  strong  blade,  with  a  handle  made 
of  beechwood. 

"  And  with  what  did  you  contrive  to  make  that,"  in- 
quired Dant^s. 

"  With  one  of  the  clamps  of  my  bedstead;  and  this 
very  tool  has  sufficed  me  to  hollow  out  the  road  by  which 
I  came  hither,  a  distance  of  at  least  fifty  feet." 


136  THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRI8TO. 

"Fifty  feet!"  re-echoed  Dantes,  with  a  species  of 
terror. 

"  Do  not  speak  so  loud,  young  man — do  not  speak  so 
loud.  It  frequently  occurs  in  a  state  prison  like  this,  that 
persons  are  stationed  outside  the  doors  of  the  cells  pur- 
posely to  overhear  the  conversation  of  the  prisoners." 

"  But  they  believe  I  am  shut  up  alone  here." 

"  That  makes  no  difference." 

"  And  you  say  that  you  penetrated  a  length  of  fifty 
feet  to  arrive  here?" 

"I  do;  that  is  about  the  distance  that  separates  your 
chamber  from  mine;  only,  unfortunately,  I  did  not  curve 
aright;  for  want  of  the  necessary  geometrical  instruments 
to  calculate  my  scale  of  proportion,  instead  of  taking  an 
ellipsis  of  forty  feet  I  have  made  fifty.  I  expected,  as  I 
told  you,  to  reach  the  outer  wall,  pierce  through  it,  and 
throw  myself  into  the  sea;  I  have,  however,  kept  along 
the  corridor  on  which  your  chamber  opens,  instead  of 
going  beneath  it.  My  labor  is  all  in  vain,  for  I  find  that 
the  corridor  looks  out  into  a  court-yard  filled  with  soldiers." 

"That's  true,"  said  Dantes;  "but  the  corridor  you 
speak  of  only  bounds  one  side  of  my  cell;  there  are  three 
others — do  you  know  anything  of  their  situation?" 

"  This  one  is  built  against  the  solid  rock,  and  it  would 
take  ten  experienced  miners,  duly  furnished  with  the 
requisite  tools,  as  many  years  to  perforate  it.  This  ad- 
joins the  lower  part  of  the  governor's  apartments,  and 
were  we  to  work  our  way  through  Ave  should  only  get 
into  some  lock-up  cellars,  where  we  must  necessarily  be  re- 
captured. The  fourth  and  last  side  of  your  cell  looks  out 
— looks  out — stop  a  minute,  now  where" does  it  open  to?" 

The  side  which  thus  excited  curiosity  was  the  one  in 
which  was  fixed  the  loop-hole  by  which  the  light  was  ad- 
mitted into  the  chamber.  This  loop-hole,  which  gradually 
diminished  as  it  approached  the  outside,  until  only  an 
opening  througli  which  a  child  could  not  have  passed,  was, 
for  better  security,  furnished  with  three  iron  bars,  so  as  to 
quiet  all  apprehensions  even  in  the  mind  of  the  most  sus- 
picious jailer  as  to  the  possibility  of  a  prisoner's  escape. 
As  the  stranger  finished  his  self-put  question  he  dragged 
the  table  beneath  the  window. 

"  Climb  up,"  said  he  to  Dantes.  The  young  man 
obeyed,  mounted  on  the  table,  and,  divining  the  intentions 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CR1STO.  137 

of  his  companion,  placed  his  back  securely  against  the 
wall  and  held  out  both  hands.  The  stranger,  whom  as 
yet  Dantes  knew  only  by  his  assumed  title  of  the  numbei 
of  his  cell,  sprang  up  with  an  agility  by  no  means  to  be 
expected  in  a  person  of  his  years,  and,  light  and  steady  as 
the  bound  of  a  cat  or  a  lizard,  climbed  from  the  table  to 
the  outstretched  hands  of  Dantes,  and  from  them  to  his 
shoulders;  then,  almost  doubling  himself  in  two,  for  the 
ceiling  of  the  dungeon  prevented  his  holding  himself 
erect,  he  managed  to  slip  his  head  through  the  top  bar  of 
the  window,  so  as  to  be  able  to  command  a  perfect  view 
from  top  to  bottom. 

An  instant  afterward  he  hastily  drew  back  his  head,  say- 
ing, "I  thought  so!"  and,  sliding  from  the  shoulders  of 
Dantes  as  dexterously  as  he  had  ascended,  he  nimbly  leaped 
from  the  table  to  the  ground. 

"  What  niade  you  say  those  words?"  asked  the  young  man, 
in  an  anxious  tone,  in  his  turn  descending  from  thetable. 

The  elder  prisoner  appeared  to  meditate;  "Yes,"  said 
he  at  length,  "it  is  so.  This  side  of  your  chamber  looks 
out  upon  a  kind  of  open  gallery,  where  patrols  are  contin- 
ually passing  and  sentries  keep  watch  day  and  night." 

"  Are  you  quite  sure  of  that?" 

"  Certain.  I  saw  the  soldier's  shako  and  the  top  of  his 
musket;  that  made  me  draw  in  my  head  so  quickly;  for  I 
was  fearful  he  might  also  see  me." 

"  Well?"  inquired  Dantes. 

"  You  perceive,  then,  the  utter  impossibility  of  escaping 
through  your  dungeon?" 

"  Then?"  pursued  the  young  man,  eagerly. 

"  Then,"  answered  the  elder  prisoner,  "  the  will  of 
God  be  done!"  and,  as  the  old  man  slowly  pronounced 
those  words,  an  air  of  profound  resignation  spread  itself 
over  his  care-worn  countenance.  Dantes  gazed  on  the  in- 
dividual who  could  thus  philosophically  resign  hopes  so 
long  and  ardently  nourished  with  an  astonishment  mingled 
with  admiration. 

"  Tell  me,  I  entreat  of  you,  who  and  what  you  are?" 
said  he  at  length;  "  never  have  I  met  with  so  remarkable 
a  person  as  yourself." 

"Willingly,"  answered  the  stranger;  "if,  indeed,  you 
feel  any  curiosity  respecting  one  now,  alas!  powerless  to 
aid  you  in  any  way." 


138  THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  GRI8TO. 

"  Say  not  so;  you  can  console  and  support  me  by  the 
strength  of  your  own  powerful  mind.  Pray  let  me  know 
who  you  really  are." 

The  stranger  smiled  a  melancholy  smile.  "  Then 
listen,"  said  he.  "  I  am  the  Abbe  Faria,  and  have  been 
imprisoned  in  this  Chateau  d'lf  since  the  year  1811;  pre- 
viously to  which  I  had  been  confined  for  three  years  in  the 
fortress  of  Fenestrelle.  In  the  year  1811 1  was  transferred  to 
Piedmont,  in  France.  It  was  at  this  period  I  learned  that 
the  destiny,. which  seemed  subservient  to  every  wish  formed 
by  Napoleon,  had  bestowed  on  him  a  son,  named  Kiug  of 
Rome  even  in  his  cradle.  I  was  very  far  then  from  ex- 
pecting the  change  you  have  just  informed  me  of;  namely, 
that  four  years  afterward  this  colossus  of  power  would  be 
overthrown.  Then  who  reigns  in  France  at  this  moment 
—Napoleon  II?" 

"  No,  Louis  XVIII !" 

"  The  brother  of  Louis  XVI !  How  inscrutable  are  the 
ways  of  Providence — for  what  great  and  mysterious  pur- 
pose has  it  pleased  heaven  to  abase  the  man  once  so  ele- 
vated, and  raise  up  the  individual  so  beaten  down  and  de- 
pressed?" 

Dantes'  whole  attention  was  riveted  on  a  man  who  could 
thus  forget  his  own  misfortunes  while  occupying  himself 
with  the  destinies  of  others. 

"  But  so  it  was,"  continued  he,  "in  England.  After 
Charles  I  came  Cromwell;  to  Cromwell  succeeded  Charles 
II,  and  then  James  II,  who  was  succeeded  by  some  son-in- 
law  or  relation.  Ah,  my  friend!  "  said  the  abbe,  turning 
toward  Dantes,  and  surveying  him  with  the  kindling  gaze 
of  a  prophet,  "these  are  the  changes  and  vicissitudes  that 
give  liberty  to  a  nation.  Mark  what  I  say !  You  are 
young,  and  may  see  my  words  come  to  pass,  that  such  will 
be  the  case  with  France — you  will  see  it,  I  say." 

"  Probably,  if  ever  I  get  out  of  prison!" 

"  True,"  replied  Faria,  "we  are  prisoners;  but  I  forget 
this  sometimee,  and  there  are  even  moments  when  my 
mental  vision  transports  me  beyond  these  walls  and  I  fancy 
myself  at  liberty." 

"But  wherefore  are  you  here?" 

"  Because  in  1807  I  meditated  the  very  scheme  Napoleon 
wished  to  realize  in  1811 ;  because,  like  Machiavel,  I 
desired  to  alter  the  political  face  of  Italy,  and  instead  of 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO.  139 

allowing  it  to  be  split  up  into  a  quantity  of  petty  princi- 
palities, each  held  by  some  weak  or  tyrannical  ruler,  I 
sought  to  form  one  large,  compact  and  powerful  empire; 
and,  lastly,  because  I  fancied  I  had  found  my  Csesar  Borgia 
in  a  crowned  simpleton,  who  feigned  to  enter  into  my 
views  only  to  betray  me.  It  was  projected  equally  by 
Alexander  VI  and  Clement  VII,  but  it  will  never  succeed 
now,  for  they  attempted  it  fruitlessly,  and  Napoleon  was 
unable  to  complete  his  work.  Italy  seems  fated  to  be 
unlucky."  The  old  man  uttered  these  last  words  in  a 
tone  of  deep  dejection  and  his  head  fell  listlessly  on  his 
breast. 

To  Dantes  all  this  was  perfectly  incomprehensible.  In 
the  first  place,  he  could  not  understand  a  man  risking  his 
life  and  liberty  for  such  unimportant  matters  as  the 
division  of  a  kingdom;  then,  again,  the  persons  referred  to 
were  wholly  unknown  to  him.  Napoleon  certainly  he 
knew  something  of,  inasmuch  as  he  had  seen  and  spoken 
with  him  ;  but  the  other  individuals  alluded  to  were 
strangers  to  him  even  by  name. 

"  Pray,  excuse  my  question/'  said  Dantes,  beginning  to 
partake  of  the  jailer's  opinion  touching  the  state  of  the 
abbe's  brain,  "  but  are  you  not  the  priest  who  is  considered 
throughout  the  Chateau  d'lf— to— be— ill  ?" 

"Mad,  you  mean,  don't  you?" 

"I  did  not  like  to  say  so,"  answered  Dantes,  smiling. 

"  Well,  then,"  resumed  Faria,  with  a  bitter  smile,  "  let 
me  answer  your  question  in  full,  by  acknowledging  that  I 
am  the  poor,  mad  prisoner  of  the  Clidteau  d'lf,  for  many 
years  permitted  to  amuse  the  different  visitants  to  the 
prison  with  what  is  said  to  be  my  insanity;  and,  in  all 
probability,  I  should  be  promoted  to  the  honor  of  making 
sport  for  the  children,  if  such  innocent  beings  could  be 
found  in  an  abode  devoted  like  this  to  suffering  and 
despair." 

Dantds  remained  for  a  short  time  mute  and  motionless ; 
at  length  he  said  :  "  Then  you  abandon  all  hope  of 
flight  ?" 

"I  perceive  its  utter  impossibility;  and  I  consider  it 
impious  to  attempt  that  which  the  Almighty  evidently 
does  not  approve." 

"  Nay,  be  not  discouraged.  Would  it  not  be  expecting 
too  much  to  hope  to  succeed  at  your  first  attempt  f  Why 


140  THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  JRI8TO. 

not  try  to  find  an  opening  in  another  direction  to  that 
which  had  so  unfortunately  failed  ?" 

"Alas!  it  shows  how  little  notion  you  can  have  of  all  it 
has  cost  me  to  effect  a  purpose  so  unexpectedly  frustrated, 
that  you  talk  of  beginning  over  again.  In  the  first  place, 
I  was  four  years  making  the  tools  I  possess  and  have  been 
two  years  scraping  and  digging  out  earth,  hard  as  granite 
itself;  then  what  toil  and  fatigue  has  it  not  been  to  remove 
huge  stones  I  should  once  have  deemed  impossible  to 
loosen.  Whole  days  have  I  passed  in  these  Titanic  efforts, 
considering  my  labor  well  repaid  if  by  night-time  I  had 
contrived  to  carry  away  a  square  inch  of  this  hard-bound 
cement,  changed  by  ages  into  a  substance  unyielding  as 
the  stones  themselves;  then  to  conceal  the  mass  of  earth 
and  rubbish  I  dug  up,  I  was  compelled  to  break  through  a 
staircase  and  throw  the  fruits  of  my  labor  into  the  hollow 
part  of  it;  but  the  well  is  now  so  completely  choked  up 
that  I  scarcely  think  it  would  be  possible  to  add  another 
handful  of  dust  without  leading  to  a  discovery.  Consider 
also  that  I  fully  believed  I  had  accomplished  the  end  and 
aim  of  my  undertaking,  for  which  I  had  so  exactly  hus- 
banded my  strength  as  to  make  it  just  hold  out  to  the 
termination  of  my  enterprise;  and  just  at  that  moment 
when  I  reckoned  upon  success  my  hopes  are  forever  dashed 
from  me.  No,  I  repeat  again,  that  nothing  shall  induce 
me  to  renew  attempts  evidently  at  variance  with  the 
Almighty's  pleasure." 

Dantes  held  down  his  head,  that  his  companion  might 
not  perceive  how  little  of  real  regret  at  the  failure  of  the 
scheme  was  expressed  on  his  countenance;  but,  in  truth, 
the  young  man  could  entertain  no  other  feeling  than 
delight  at  finding  his  prison  would  be  no  longer  solitary  or 
uncheered  by  human  participation. 

The  abbe  sank  upon  Edmond's  bed,  while  Edmond  him- 
self remained  standing,  lost  in  a  train  of  deep  meditation. 
Flight  had  never  once  occurred  to  him.  There  are, 
indeed,  some  things  which  appear  so  morally  impossible 
that  the  mind  does  not  dwell  on  them  for  an  instant.  To 
undermine  the  ground  for  fifty  feet — to  devote  three  years 
to  a  labor  which,  if  successful,  would  conduct  you  to  a 
precipice  overhanging  the  sea — to  plunge  into  the  waves  at 
a  height  of  fifty  or  sixty  feet,  at  the  risk  of  being  dashed 
to  pieces  against  the  rocks,  should  you  have  been  fortunate 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CR18TO.  141 

enough  to  have  escaped  the  balls  from  the  sentinel's 
musket;  and  even,  supposing  all  these  perils  past,  then  to 
have  to  swim  for  your  life  a  distance  of  at  least  three 
miles  ere  you  could  reach  the  shore — were  difficulties  so 
startling  and  formidable  that  Dantes  had  never  even 
dreamed  of  such  a  scheme,  but  resigned  himself  to  his 
fate.  But  the  sight  of  an  old  man  clinging  to  life  with  so 
desperate  a  courage  gave  a  fresh  turn  to  his  ideas  and  in- 
spired him  with  new  courage  and  energy.  An  instance  was 
before  him  of  one  less  adroit,  as  well  as  weaker  and  older, 
having  devised  a  plan  which  nothing  but  an  unfortunate 
mistake  in  geometrical  calculations  could  have  rendered 
abortive.  This  same  individual,  with  almost  incredible 
patience  and  perseverance,  had  contrived  to  provide  him- 
self with  tools  requisite  for  so  unparalleled  an  attempt.  If, 
then,  one  man  had  already  conquered  the  seeming  impossi- 
bility, why  should  not  he,  Dantes,  also  try  to  regain  his 
liberty?  Faria  had  made  his  way  through  fifty  feet  of  the 
prison,  Dantes  resolved  to  penetrate  through  double  that 
distance.  Faria,  at  the  age  of  50,  had  devoted  three  years 
to  the  task;  he,  who  was  but  half  as  old,  would  sacrifice 
six.  Faria,  a  churchman  and  philosopher,  had  not  shrunk 
from  risking  his  life  by  trying  to  swim  a  distance  of  three 
miles  to  reach  the  isles  of  Daume,  Rattonneau  or  Lemaire; 
should  a  hardy  sailor,  an  experienced  diver,  like  himself, 
shrink  from  a  similar  task;  should  he,  who  had  so  often 
for  mere  amusement's  sake  plunged  to  the  bottom  of  the 
sea  to  fetch  up  the  bright  coral-branch,  hesitate  to  swim  a 
distance  of  three  miles?  He  could  do  it  in  an  hour,  and 
how  many  times  had  he  for  pure  pastime  continued  in  the 
water  for  more  than  twice  as  long!  At  once  Dantds  re- 
solved to  follow  the  brave  example  of  his  energetic  com- 
panion and  to  remember  that  what  has  once  been  done 
may  be  done  again. 

After  continuing  some  time  in  profound  meditation  the 
young  man  suddenly  exclaimed:  "I  have  found  what  you 
were  in  search  of  !" 

Faria  started:  "Have  you,  indeed?"  cried  he,  raising 
his  head  with  quick  anxiety;  "  pray,  let  me  know  what 
it  is  you  have  discovered  ?" 

"  The  corridor  through  which  you  have  bored  your  way 
from  the  cell  you  occupy  here  extends  in  the  same  direction 
as  the  outor  gallery,  does  it  not  ?" 

DUMAS— VOL.  I.— 7 


142  THE  CO  UNT  OF  MONTE  CRI8TO. 

"  It  does! 

"  And  is  not  above  fifteen  steps  from  it  ?" 

"  About  that !" 

"  Well,  then,  I  will  tell  you  what  we  must  do.  We  must 
pierce  through  the  corridor  by  forming  a  side  opening 
about  the  middle,  as  it  were  the  top  part  of  a  cross.  This 
time  you  will  lay  your  plans  more  accurately;  we  shall  get 
out  into  the  gallery  you  have  described,  kill  the  sentinel 
who  guards  it  and  make  our  escape.  All  we  require  to 
insure  success  is  courage,  and  that  you  possess,  and  strength, 
which  I  am  not  deficient  in;  as  for  patience,  you  have 
abundantly  proved  yours — you  shall  now  see  me  prove 
mine." 

" One  instant,  my  dear  friend,"  replied  the  abb£;  "it  is 
clear  you  do  not  understand  the  nature  of  the  courage 
with  which  I  am  endowed,  and  what  use  I  intend  making 
of  my  strength.  As  for  patience,  I  consider  I  have  abun- 
dantly exercised  that  on  recommencing  every  morning  the 
task  of  the  overnight,  and  every  night  beginning  the  task 
of  the  day.  But  then,  young  man — and  I  pray  of  you 
to  give  me  your  full  attention — then  I  thought  I  could  not 
be  doing  anything  displeasing  to  the  Almighty  in  trying 
to  set  an  innocent  being  at  liberty;  one  who  had  committed 
no  oifense  and  merited  no  condemnation. " 

"And  have  your  notions  changed?"  asked  Dante's,  with 
much  surprise.  "  Do  you  think  yourself  more  guilty  in 
making  the  attempt  since  you  have  encountered  me?" 

"  No;  neither  do  I  wish  to  incur  guilt.  Hitherto  I  have 
fancied  myself  merely  waging  war  against  circumstances, 
not  men.  I  have  thought  it  no  sin  to  bore  through  a  wall 
or  a  staircase,  but  I  cannot  so  easily  persuade  myself  to 
pierce  a  heart  or  take  away  a  life." 

A  slight  movement  of  surprise  escaped  Dantes. 

" Is  it  possible,"  said  he,  "that  where  your  liberty  is  at 
stake  you  can  allow  any  such  scruple  to  deter  you  from 
obtaining  it?" 

"  Tell  me/'  replied  Faria,  "  what  has  hindered  you 
from  knocking  down  your  jailer  with  a  piece  of  wood  torn 
from  you  bedstead,  dressing  yourself  in  his  clothes  and 
endeavoring  to  escape?" 

"  Simply  that  I  never  thought  of  such  a  scheme,"  an- 
swered Dantes. 

"Because,"  said  the  old  man,  "the  natural  repugnance 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO.  143 

to  the  commission  of  such  a  crime  prevented  its  bare  idea 
from  occurring  to  you;  and  so  it  ever  is  with  all  simple 
and  allowable  things.  Our  natural  instincts  keep  us  from 
deviating  from  the  strict  line  of  duty.  The  tiger,  whose 
nature  teaches  him  to  delight  in  shedding  blood,  needs  but 
the  organ  of  smelling  to  know  when  his  prey  is  within 
his  reach,  and  by  following  this  instinct  he  is  enabled  to 
measure  the  leap  necessary  to  enable  him  to  spring  on  his 
victim;  but  man,  on  the  contrary,  loathes  the  idea  of  blood 
— it  is  not  alone  that  the  laws  of  social  life  inspire  him 
with  a  shrinking  dread  of  taking  life;  his  natural  construc- 
tion and  physiological  formation " 

Dantes  remained  confused  and  silent  by  this  explanation 
of  the  thoughts  which  had  unconsciously  been  working  in 
his  mind,  or,  rather,  soul;  for  there  are  two  distinct  sorts 
of  ideas,  those  that  proceed  from  the  head  and  those  that 
emanate  from  the  heart. 

"Since  my  imprisonment/'  said  Faria,  "I  have  thought 
over  all  the  most  celebrated  cases  of  escape  recorded. 
Among  the  many  that  have  failed  in  obtaining  the  ultimate 
release  of  the  prisoner,  I  consider  there  has  been  a  precipi- 
tation— a  haste  wholly  incompatible  with  such  under- 
takings. Those  escapes  that  have  been  crowned  with  4ul\ 
success  have  been  long  meditated  upon  and  carefully 
arranged;  such,  for  instance,  as  the  escape  of  the  Duke  de 
Beaufort  from  the  Chateau  de  Vincennes,  that  of  the 
Abbe  Dubuquoi  from  For  FEve'que,  Latude's  from  the 
Bastile,  with  similar  cases  of  successful  evasion;  and  I  have 
come  to  the  conclusion  that  chance  frequently  affords 
opportunities  we  should  never  ourselves  have  thought  of. 
Let  us,  therefore,  wait  patiently  for  some  favorable 
moment.  Kely  upon  it,  you  will  not  find  me  more  back- 
ward than  yourself  in  seizing  it." 

"Ah!"  said  Dantes,  "you  might  well  endure  the  tedious 
delay.  You  were  constantly  employed  in  the  task  you  set 
yourself,  and,  when  weary  with  toil,  you  had  your  hopes  to 
refresh  and  encourage  you." 

"  I  assure  you,"  replied  the  old  man,  "  I  did  not  turn  to 
that  source  for  recreation  or  support." 

"What  did  you  do  then?" 

"  I  wrote  or  studied." 

"Where  you  then  permitted  the  use  of  pen,  ink  and 
paper?" 


144  THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO. 

"Oh,  no!"  answered  the  abbe;  "I  had  none  but  what  I 
made  for  myself." 

"Do  you  mean  to  tell  me,"  exclaimed  Dantes,  "that 
you  could  invent  all  those  things — for  real  ones  you  could 
not  procure  unaided?" 

"I  do,  indeed,  truly  say  so." 

Dantes  gazed  with  kindling  eyes  and  rapidly  increasing 
admiration  on  the  wonderful  being  whose  hand  seemed 
gifted  with  the  power  of  a  magician's  wand.  Some  doubt, 
however,  still  lingered  in  his  mind,  which  was  quickly 
perceived  by  the  penetrating  eye  of  the  abbe. 

"When  you  pay  me  a  visit  in  my  cell,  my  young  friend," 
said  he,  "  I  will  show  you  an  entire  work,  the  fruits  of  the 
thoughts  and  reflections  of  my  whole  life;  many  of  them 
meditated  over  in  the  ruins  of  the  Coliseum  of  Eome,  at 
the  foot  of  St.  Mark's  column  at  Venice,  and  on  the 
borders  of  the  Arno  at  Florence,  little  imagining  at  the 
time  that  they  would  be  arranged  in  order  within  the  walls 
of  the  Chateau  d'If.  The  work  I  speak  of  is  called  'A 
Treatise  on  the  Practicability  of  Forming  Italy  Into 
One  General  Monarchy/  and  will  make  one  large  quarto 
volume. " 

"And  on  what  have  you  written  all  this?" 

"  On  two  of  my  shirts.  I  invented  a  preparation  that 
makes  linen  as  smooth  and  as  easy  to  write  on  as  parch- 
ment." 

"You  are,  then,  a  chemist?" 

"Somewhat;  I  know  Lavoisier,  and  was  the  intimate 
friend  of  Cabanis." 

"  But  for  such  a  work  you  must  have  needed  books — had 
you  any?" 

"I  possessed  nearly  5,000  volumes  in  my  library  at 
Kome;  but  after  reading  them  over  many  times  I  found 
out  that  with  150  well-chosen  books  a  man  possesses  a 
complete  analysis  of  all  human  knowledge,  or  at  least  all 
that  is  either  useful  or  desirable  to  be  acquainted  with.  I 
devoted  three  years  of  my  life  to  reading  and  studying 
these  150  volumes,  till  I  knew  them  nearly  by  heart;  so 
that  since  I  have  been  in  prison  a  very  slight  effort  of 
memory  has  enabled  me  to  recall  their  contents  as  readily 
as  though  their  pages  were  open  before  me.  I  could  recite 
you  the  whole  of  Thucydides,  Xenophon,  Plutarch,  Titus 
Livius,  Tacitus,  Strada,  Jornandes,  Dante,  Montaigne, 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRI8TO.  145 

Shakespeare,  Spinosa,  Machiavel  and  Bossuet.  Observe,  I 
merely  quote  the  most  important  names  and  writers." 

"You  are,  doubtless,  acquainted  with  a  variety  of 
languages,  so  as  to  have  been  able  to  read  all  these?"  * 

"Yes,  I  speak  five  of  the  modern  tongues — that  is  to 
Bay,  German,  French,  Italian,  English  and  Spanish.  By 
the  aid  of  ancient  Greek  I  learned  modern  Greek.  I  don't 
speak  it  so  well  as  I  could  wish,  but  I  am  still  trying  to 
improve  yourself." 

"Improve  yourself!"  repeated  Dant&s;  "why,  how  can 
you  manage  to  do  so?" 

"Why,  I  made  a  vocabulary  of  the  words  I  knew; 
turned,  returned  and  arranged  them  so  as  to  enable  me  to 
express  my  thoughts  through  their  medium.  I  know 
nearly  1,000  words,  which  is  all  that  is  absolutely  necessary, 
although  I  believe  there  are  nearly  100,000  in  the  dic- 
tionaries. I  cannot  hope  to  be  very  fluent,  but  I  certainly 
should  have  no  difficulty  in  explaining  my  wants  and 
wishes,  and  that  would  be  quite  as  much  as  I  should  ever 
require." 

Stronger  grew  the  wonder  of  Dantes,  who  almost  fancied 
he  had  to  do  with  one  gifted  with  supernatural  powers; 
still  hoping  to  find  some  imperfection  which  might  bring 
him  down  to  a  level  with  human  beings,  he  added:  "  Then 
if  you  were  not  furnished  with  pens,  how  did  you  manage 
to  write  the  work  you  speak  of  ?" 

"  I  made  myself  some  excellent  ones,  which  would  be 
universally  preferred  to  all  others  if  once  known.  You  are 
aware  what  huge  whitings  are  served  to  us  on  maigre  days. 
Well,  I  selected  the  cartilages  of  the  heads  of  these  fishes 
and  you  can  scarcely  imagine  the  delight  with  which  I 
welcomed  the  arrival  of  each  Wednesday,  Friday  and 
Saturday,  as  affording  me  the  means  of  increasing  my 
stock  of  pens;  for,  I  will  freely  confess  that  my  historical 
labors  have  been  my  greatest  solace  and  relief  While 
retracing  the  past  I  forgot  the  present;  and,  while  follow- 
ing the  free  and  independent  course  of  historical  record,  I 
cease  to  remember  that  I  am  myself  immured  within  the 
gloomy  walls  of  a  dungeon." 

"But  the  ink  requisite  for  copying  down  your  ideas," 
said  Dantes,  "how  have  you  procured  that?"  * 

"  I  will  tell  you,"  replied  I1  aria.  "  There  was  formerly 
a  fire-place  in  my  dungeon,  but  closed  up  long  ere  I 


146  THE  CO  UNT  OF  MONTE  CRI8TO. 

became  an  occupant  of  this  prison.  Still,  it  must  have 
been  many  years  in  use,  for  it  was  thickly  covered  with  a 
coating  of  soot;  this  soot  I  dissolved  into  a  portion  of  the 
wine  brought  to  me  every  Sunday,  and  I  assure  you  a  better 
ink  cannot  be  desired.  For  very  important  notes,  for 
which  closer  attention  is  required,  I  have  pricked  one  of 
my  fingers  and  written  the  facts  claiming  notice  in  blood. 

"  And  when,"  asked  Dantes,  "  will  you  -show  me  all 
this  ?" 

"  Whenever  you  please,"  replied  the  abbe. 

"  Oh,  then,  let  it  be  directly  I"  exclaimed  the  young  man. 

"  Follow  me,  then,"  said  the  abbe,  as  he  re-entered  the 
subterraneous  passage,  in  which  he  soon  disappeared,  fol- 
lowed by  Dantes. 


CHAPTER  XVII. 

THE    ABBE    CHAMBER. 

AFTER  having  passed  with  tolerable  ease  through  the 
subterranean  passage,  which,  however,  did  not  admit  of 
their  holding  themselves  erect,  the  two  friends  reached  the 
further  end  of  the  corridor,  into  which  the  cell  of  the  abb6 
opened;  from  that  point  the  opening  became  much  nar- 
rower, barely  permitting  an  individual  to  creep  through 
on  his  hands  and  knees.  The  floor  of  the  abbe's  cell  was 
paved,  and  it  had  been  by  raising  one  of  the  stones  in  the 
most  obscure  corner  that  Faria  had  been  able  to  commence 
the  laborious  task  of  which  Dantes  had  witnessed  the 
completion. 

As  he  entered  the  chamber  of  his  friend  Dantes  cast 
around  one  eager  and  searching  glance  in  quest  of  the  ex- 
pected marvels,  but  nothing  more  than  common  met  his 
view. 

"It  is  well,"  said  the  abbe;  "we  have  some  hours 
before  us— it  is  now  just  12:15  o'clock."  Instinctively 
Dantes  turned  round  to  observe  by  what  watch  or  clock  the 
abbe  had  been  able  so  accurately  to  specify  the  hour. 

"  Look  at  this  ray  of  light  which  enters  by  my  window," 
said  the  abbe,  "and  then  observe  the  lines  traced  on  the  wall. 
Well,  by  means  of  these  lines,  which  are  in  accordance 
with  the  double  motion  of  the  earth,  as  well  as  the  ellipses 


THE  CO  UNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO.  147 

it  describes  round  the  sun,  I  am  enabled  to  ascertain  the 
precise  hour  with  more  minuteness  than  if  I  possessed  a 
watch;  for  that  might  be  broken  or  deranged  in  its  move- 
ments, while  the  sun  and  earth  never  vary  in  their  ap- 
pointed paths/' 

This  last  explanation  was  wholly  lost  upon  Dantes,  who 
had  always  imagined,  from  seeing  the  sun  rise  from  behind 
the  mountains  and  set  in  the  Mediterranean,  that  it  moved, 
and  not  the  earth.  A  double  movement  in  the  globe  he 
iiihabited,  and  of  which  he  could  feel  nothing,  appeared  to 
him  perfectly  impossible;  still,  though  unable  to  compre- 
hend the  full  meaning  of  his  companion's  allusions,  each 
word  that  fell  from  his  lips  seemed  fraught  with  the  won- 
ders of  science,  as  admirably  deserving  of  being  brought 
fully  to  light  as  were  the  glittering  treasures  he  could  just 
recollect  having  visited  during  his  earliest  youth  in  a  voyage 
he  made  to  Guzerat  and  Golconda. 

" Come,"  said  he  to  the  abbe,  "show  me  the  wonderful 
inventions  you  told  me  of.  I  am  all  impatience  to  behold 
them." 

The  abbe"  smiled,  and  proceeding  to  the  disused  fire- 
place raised,  by  the  help  of  his  chisel,  a  long  stone,  which 
had  doubtless  been  the  hearth,  beneath  which  was  a  cavity 
of  considerable  depth,  serving  as  a  safe  depository  of  the 
articles  mentioned  to  Dante's. 

"  What  do  you  wish  to  see  first  ?"  asked  the  abbe". 

"  Oh  !  your  great  work  on  the  monarchy  of  Italy  !" 

Faria  then  drew  forth  from  his  hiding-place  three  or 
four  rolls  of  linen,  laid  one  over  the  other,  like  the  folds 
of  papyrus  found  in  mummy-cases.  These  rolls  consisted 
of  slips  of  cloth  about  four  inches  wide  and  eighteen  long; 
they  were  all  carefully  numbered  and  covered  with  writing, 
so  legible  that  Dantes  could  easily  read  it,  as  well  as  make 
out  the  sense — it  being  in  Italian,  a  language  he,  as  a  Pro- 
ven§al,  perfectly  understood. 

"There,"  said  he,  "there  is  the  work  complete.  I 
wrote  the  word  finis  at  the  end  of  the  last  page 
about  a  week  ago.  I  have  torn  up  two  of  my  shirts  and 
as  many  handkerchiefs  as  I  was  master  of  to  complete 
the  precious  pages.  Should  I  ever  get  out  of  prison  and 
find  a  printer  courageous  enough  to  publish  what  I  have 
composed,  my  literary  reputation  is  forever  secured. 

"I  see,"  answered    Daiites.      "Now  let    me    behold 


148  THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  VRISTO. 

the  curious  pens  with  which  you  have  written  your 
work." 

"  Look  !"  said  Faria,  showing  the  young  man  a  slender 
stick  about  six  inches  long,  and  much  resembling  the  size 
of  the  handle  of  a  fine  painting-brush,  to  the  end  of  which 
was  tied,  by  a  piece  of  thread,  one  of  those  cartilages  of 
which  the  abbe  had  before  spoken  of  to  Dantes;  it  was 
pointed  and  divided  at  the  nib  like  an  ordinary  pen. 
Dantes  examined  it  with  intense  admiration,  then  looked 
around  to  see  the  instrument  with  which  it  had  been 
shaped  so  correctly  into  form. 

"Ah,  I  see/' said  Faria,  yon  are  wondering  where  I 
found  my  penknife,  are  you  not  ?  Well,  I  must  confess 
that  I  look  upon  that  article  of  my  ingenuity  as  the  very 
perfection  of  all  my  handiwork.  I  made  it,  as  well  as 
this  knife,  out  of  an  old  iron  candlestick. 

The  penknife  was  sharp  and  keen  as  a  razor;  as  for  the 
other  knife  it  possessed  the  double  advantage  of  being 
capable  of  serving  either  as  a  dagger  or  a  knife. 

Dantes  examined  the  various  articles  shown  to  him  with 
the  same  attention  he  had  bestowed  on  the  curiosities  and 
strange  tools  exhibited  in  the  shops  at  Marseilles  as  the 
works  of  the  savages  in  the  South  seas,  from  whence  they 
had  been  brought  by  the  different  trading  vessels. 

"As  for  the  ink,"  said  Faria,  "I  told  you  how  I  man- 
aged to  obtain  that,  and  I  only  just  make  it  from  time  to 
time  as  I  require  it." 

"  There  is  one  thing  puzzles  me  still,"  observed  Dante's, 
"and  that  is  how  you  managed  to  do  all  this  by  daylight." 

"  I  worked  at  night  also,"  replied  Faria. 

"Night!  Why,  for  heaven's  sake,  are  your  eyes  like 
cats  that  you  can"  see  to  work  in  the  dark?" 

"  Indeed  they  are  not;  but  a  beneficent  Creator  has  sup- 
plied man  with  intelligence  and  ability  to  supply  the  want 
of  the  power  you  allude  to.  I  furnished  myself  with  a 
light  quite  as  good  as  that  possessed  by  the  cat." 

"  You  did?    Pray,  tell  me  how." 

"  I  separated  the  fat  from  the  meat  served  to  me,  melted 
it  and  made  a  most  capital  oil.  Here  is  my  lamp." 

So  saying,  the  abbe  exhibited  a  sort  of  vessel  very  simi- 
lar to  those  employed  upon  the  occasion  of  public  illu- 
minations. 

"  But  how  do  you  procure  a  light?" 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRI8TO.  149 

"  Oh,  here  are  two  flints  and  a  morsel  of  burned 
linen." 

"And  your  matches?" 

"  Were  easily  prepared.  I  feigned  a  disorder  of  the 
skin  and  asked  for  a  little  sulphur,  which  was  readily 
supplied." 

Dante's  laid  the  different  things  he  had  been  looking  at 
gently  on  the  table  and  stood  with  his  head  drooping  on 
his  breast  as  though  overwhelmed  by  the  persevering  spirit 
and  strength  of  character  developed  in  each  fresh  trait  of 
his  new-found  friend's  conduct. 

"You  have  not  see  all  yet,"  continued  Faria,  "for  I 
did  not  think  it  wise  to  trust  all  my  treasures  in  the  same 
hiding-place.  Let  us  shut  this  one  up  and  then  you  shall 
see  what  else  I  have  to  display." 

Dantes  helped  him  to  replace  the  stone  ac  they  first 
found  it;  the  abbe  sprinkled  a  little  dust  over  it  to  con- 
ceal the  traces  of  its  having  been  removed,  rubbed  his  foot 
well  on  it  to  make  it  assume  the  same  appearance  as  the 
other,  and  then,  going  toward  his  bed,  he  removed  it 
from  the  spot  it  stood  in.  Behind  the  head  of  the  bed, 
and  concealed  by  a  stone  fitting  in  so  closely  as  to  defy  all 
suspicion,  was  a  hollow  space,  and  in  this  space  a  ladder 
of  cords  between  twenty-five  and  thirty  feet  in  length. 
Dante's  closely  and  eagerly  examined  it;  he  found  it  firm, 
solid  and  compact  enough  to  bear  any  weight. 

"  Who  supplied  you  with  the  materials  for  making  this 
wonderful  work?" 

"  No  one  but  myself.  I  tore  up  several  of  my  shirts 
and  unraveled  the  sheets  of  my  bed  during  my  three  years' 
imprisonment  at  Fenestrelle,  and  when  I  was  removed  to 
the  Chateau  d'lf  I  managed  to  bring  the  ravelings  with 
me,  so  that  I  have  been  able  to  finish  my  work  here." 

"And  was  it  not  discovered  that  your  sheets  were 
unhemmed?" 

"  Oh,  no!  for  when  I  had  taken  out  the  thread  I  re- 
quired I  hemmed  the  edges  over  again." 

"  With  what?" 

"With  this  needle!"  said  the  abb6,  as,  opening  his 
ragged  vestments,  he  showed  Dantes  a  long,  sharp  fish- 
bone with  a  small  perforated  eye  for  the  thread,  a  small 
portion  of  which  still  remained  in  it.  "  I  once  thought," 
continued  Faria,  "  of  removing  these  iron  bars  and  letting 


150  THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRI8TO. 

myself  down  from  the  window,  which,  as  you  see,  is  some- 
what wider  than  yours,  although  I  should  have  enlarged 
it  still  more  preparatory  to  my  flight;  however,  I  discov- 
ered that  I  should  merely  have  dropped  into  a  sort  of 
inner  court,  and  I  therefore  renounced  the  project  alto- 
gether as  too  full  of  risk  and  danger.  Nevertheless,  I 
carefully  preserved  my  ladder  against  one  of  those  unfore- 
seen opportunities  of  which  I  spoke  just  now  and  which 
sudden  chance  frequently  brings  about." 

While  affecting  to  be  deeply  engaged  in  examining  the 
ladder,  the  miud  of  Dantes  was,  in  fact,  busily  occupied 
by  the  idea  that  a  person  so  intelligent,  ingenious  and 
clear-sighted  as  the  abbe  might  probably  be  enabled  to 
dive  into  the  dark  recesses  of  his  own  misfortunes  and 
cause  that  light  to  shine  upon  the  mystery  connected  with 
them  he  had  in  vain  sought  to  elicit. 

"  What  are  you  thinking  of  ?"  asked  the  abbe,  smil- 
ingly, imputing  the  deep  abstraction  in  which  his  visitor 
was  plunged  to  the  excess  of  his  awe  and  wonder. 

"  I  was  reflecting,  in  the  first  place,"  replied  Dantes, 
"  upon  the  enormous  degree  of  intelligence  and  ability  you 
must  have  employed  to  reach  the  high  perfection  to  which 
you  have  attained.  If  you  thus  surpass  all  mankind  while 
but  a  prisoner,  what  would  you  not  have  accomplished 
free?" 

"  Possibly  nothing  at  all.  The  overflow  of  my  brain 
would  probably  in  a  state  of  freedom  have  evaporated  in 
a  thousand  follies.  It  needs  trouble  and  difficulty  and 
danger  to  hollow  out  various  mysteries  and  hidden  mines 
of  human  intelligence.  Pressure  is  required,  you  know, 
to  ignite  powder;  captivity  has  collected  into  one  single 
focus  all  the  floating  faculties  of  my  mind  ;  they  have 
come  into  close  contact  in  the  narrow  space  in  which  they 
have  been  wedged;  and  you  are  well  aware  that  from  the 
collision  of  clouds  electricity  is  produced — from  electricity 
comes  the  lightning,  from  whose  flash  we  have  light  amid 
our  greatest  darkness." 

"Alas,  no!"  replied  Dantes.  "I  know  not  that  these 
things  follow  in  such  natural  order.  Oh,  I  am  very  igno- 
rant! and  you  must  be  blessed  indeed  to  possess  the  knowl- 
edge you  have." 

The  abbe  smiled. 

"  Well,"  said  he,  "  but  you  had  another  subject  for 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRI8TO.  151 

your  thoughts  besides  admiration  for  me.  Did  you  not 
say  so  just  now?" 

"  I  did." 

"  You  have  told  me  as  yet  but  one  of  them;  let  me  hear 
the  other." 

".It  was  this:  That  while  you  had  related  to  me  all  the 
particulars  of  your  past  life  you  were  perfectly  unac- 
quainted with  mine." 

"  Your  life,  my  young  friend,  has  not  been  of  sufficient 
length  to  admit  of  your  having  passed  through  any  very 
important  events." 

"  It  has  been  long  enough  to  inflict  on  me  a  misfortune 
so  great,  so  crushingly  overwhelming  that,  unconscious  as 
I  am  of  having  in  any  way  deserved  it,  I  would  fain  know 
who  of  all  mankind  has  been  the  accursed  author  of  it 
that  I  may  no  longer  accuse  heaven  as  I  have  done  in  my 
fury  and  despair  of  willful  injustice  toward  an  innocent 
and  injured  man." 

"  Then  you  profess  ignorance  of  the  crime  with  which 
you  are  charged  ?" 

"  I  do,  indeed;  and  this  I  swear  by  the  two  beings  most 
dear  to  me  upon  earth — my  father  and  Mercedes." 

"  Come,"  said  the  abbe",  closing  his  hiding-place  and 
pushing  the  bed  back  to  its  original  situation,  "  let  me 
hear  your  story." 

Dantes  obeyed,  and  commenced  what  he  called  his  his- 
tory, but  which  consisted  only  of  the  account  of  a  voyage 
to  India  and  two  or  three  in  the  Levant  until  he  arrived 
at  the  recital  of  his  last  cruise  with  the  death  of  Capt. 
Leclere  and  the  receipt  of  a  packet  to  be  delivered  by  him- 
self to  the  grand  marechal;  his  interview  with  that  per- 
sonage and  his  receiving  in  place  of  the  packet  brought  a 
letter  addressed  to  M.  Noirtier;  his  arrival  at  Marseilles 
and  interview  with  his  father;  his  affection  for  Mercedes 
and  their  nuptial  f  6 te;  his  arrest  and  subsequent  examina- 
tion in  the  temporary  prison  of  the  Palais  de  Justice,  end- 
ing in  his  final  imprisonment  in  the  Chateau  d'If.  From 
the  period  of  his  arrival  all  was  a  blank  to  Dantes;  he 
knew  nothing,  not  even  the  length  of  time  he  had  been 
imprisoned.  His  recital  finished,  the  abb6  reflected  long 
and  earnestly. 

"There  is,"  said  he,  at  the  end  of  his  meditations,  "a 
clever  maxim,  which  bears  upon  what  I  was  saying  to  you 


152  THE  CO  UNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO. 

some  little  while  ago,  and  that  is,  that  unless  wicked  ideas 
take  root  in  a  naturally  depraved  mind,  human  nature,  in 
a  right  and  wholesome  state,  revolts  at  crime.  Still,  from 
an  artificial  civilization  have  originated  wants,  vices,  and 
false  tastes,  which  occasionally  become  so  powerful  as  to 
stifle  within  us  all  good  feelings,  and  ultimately  to  lead  us 
into  guilt  and  wickedness.  From  this  view  of  things, 
then,  comes  the  axiom  I  allude  to  —  that  if  you  wish  to  dis- 
cover the  author  of  any  bad  action,  seek  first  to  discover 
the  person  to  whom  the  perpetration  of  that  bad  action 
cold  be  in  any  way  advantageous.  Now,  to  apply  it  in 
your  case  —  to  whom  could  your  disappearance  have  been 
serviceable  ?" 

"  To  no  breathing  soul.  Why,  who  could  have  cared 
about  the  removal  of  so  insigificant  a  person  as  myself  ?" 

"Do  not  speak  thus,  for  your  reply  evinces  neither  logic 

lative, 


nor  philosophy;  everything  is  relative,  my  dear  young 
friend,  from  the  king  who  obstructs  his  successor's  im- 
mediate possession  of  the  throne,  to  the  occupant  of  a 
place  for  which  the  supernumerary  to  whom  it  has  been 
promised  ardently  longs.  Now,  in  the  event  of  the  king's 
death,  his  successor  inherits  a  crown  —  when  the  placeman 
dies,  the  supernumerary  steps  into  his  shoes,  and  receives 
his  salary  of  12,000  livres.  Well,  these  12,000  livres  are 
his  civil  list,  and  are  as  essential  to  him  as  the  12,000,000 
of  a  king.  Every  individual,  from  the  highest  to  the 
lowest  degree,  has  his  place  in  the  ladder  of  social  life, 
and  around  him  are  grouped  a  little  world  of  interests, 
composed  of  stormy  passions  and  commoting  atoms;  but 
let  us  return  to  your  world.  You  say  you  were  on  the 
point  of  being  appointed  captain  of  the  Pharaon  ?" 

"  I  was." 

"And  about  to  become  the  husband  of  a  young  and 
lovely  girl  ?" 

"  True." 

"  Now,  could  any  one  have  had  any  interest  to  pre- 
venting the  accomplishment  of  these  two  circumstances  ? 
But  let  us  first  settle  the  question  as  to  its  being  the  in- 
terest of  any  one  to  hinder  you  from  being  captain  of  the 
Pharaon.  What  say  you  ?" 

"  I  cannot  believe  such  was  the  case.  I  was  generally 
liked  on  board;  and  had  the  sailors  possessed  the  right  of 
selecting  a  captain  themselves,  I  feel  convineed  their 


THE  CO  UNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO.  153 

choice  would  have  fallen  on  me.  There  was  only  one  per- 
son among  the  crew  who  had  any  feeling  of  ill-will  toward 
me.  I  had  quarreled  with  him  some  time  previously,  and 
had  even  challenged  him  to  fight  me;  but  he  refused/' 

"  Now  we  are  getting  on.  And  what  was  this  man's 
name?" 

"  Danglars." 

"  What  rank  did  he  hold  on  board?" 

"He  was  supercargo." 

"And  had  you  been  captain,  should  you  have  retained 
him  in  his  employment  ?" 

"Not  if  the  choice  had  remained  with  me,  for  I  had 
frequently  observed  inaccuracies  in  his  accounts.  " 

"  Good  again!  Now,  then,  tell  me,  was  any  person  pres- 
ent during  your  last  conversation  with  Capt.  Leclere?" 

"  No,  we  were  quite  alone." 

"  Could  your  conversation  be  overheard  by  any  one?" 

"It  might,  for  the  cabin  door  was  open— and — stay; 
now  I  recollect— -Danglars  himself  passed  by  just  as  Capt. 
Leclere  was  giving  me  the  packet  for  the  grand  mare'chal." 

"That  will  do,"  cried  the  abbe;  "now  we  are  on  the 
right  scent.  Did  you  take  anybody  with  you  when  you 
put  into  the  port  of  Elba?" 

"Nobody." 

"  Somebody  there  received  your  packet,  and  gave  you  a 
letter  in  place  of  it,  I  think  ?" 

"  Yes;  the  grand  marechal  did." 

"  And  what  did  you  do  with  that  letter?" 

"Put  it  into  my  pocket-book." 

"Ah!  indeed!  You  had  your  pocket-book  with  you, 
then  ?  Now,  how  could  a  pocket-book,  large  enough  to 
contain  an  official  letter,  find  sufficient  room  in  the  pockets 
of  a  sailor  ?" 

"  You  are  right;  I  had  it  with  me — it  was  left  on  board." 

"  Then  it  was  not  till  your  return  to  the  ship  that  you 
placed  the  letter  in  the  pocket-book  ?" 

"  No." 

"  And  what  did  you  do  with  this  same  letter  while  re- 
turning from  Porto-Ferrajo  to  your  vessel?" 

"  I  carried  it  in  my  hand." 

"  So  that  when  you  went  on  board  the  Pharaon  every- 
body could  preceive  you  held  a  letter  in  your  hand?" 

"  To  be  sure  they  could." 


154  THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO. 

"  Danglars,  as  well  as  the  rest?" 

"  Yes;  he  as  well  as  others." 

"  Now,  listen  to  me,  and  try  to  recall  every  circum- 
stance attending  your  arrest.  Do  you  recollect  the  words 
in  which  the  information  against  you  was  couched?" 

"  Oh,  yes  !  I  read  it  over  three  times,  and  the  words  sank 
deeply  into  my  memory." 

"  Repeat  it  to  me." 

Dantes  paused  a  few  instants,  as  though  collecting  his 
ideas,  then  said:  "This  is  it,  word  for  word — 'M.  le 
Procureur  du  Hoi  is  informed  by  a  friend  to  the  throne 
and  religion  that  an  individual  named  Edmond  Dantes, 
second  in  command  on  board  the  Pharaon,  this  day 
arrived  from  Smyrna,  after  having  touched  at  Naples  and 
Porto-Ferrajo,  has  been  charged  by  Murat  with  a  packet 
for  the  usurper;  again,  by  the  usurper,  with  a  letter  for 
the  Bonaparfcist  club  in  Paris.  This  proof  of  his  guilt 
may  be  procured  by  his  immediate  arrest,  as  a  letter  will 
be  found  either  about  his  person,  at  his  father's  residence, 
or  in  his  cabin  on  board  the  Pharaon/  " 

The  abbe  shrugged  up  his  shoulders. 

"  The  thing  is  clear  as  day,"  said  he;  "  and  you  must 
have  had  a  very  unsuspecting  nature,  as  well  as  a  good 
heart,  not  to  have  suspected  the  origin  of  the  whole 
affair." 

"Do  you  really  think  so?  Ah,  that  would,  indeed,  be 
the  treachery  of  a  villian  !" 

'  How  did  Danglars  usually  write  ?" 

'  Oh  !  extremely  well." 

'And  how  was  the  anonymous  letter  written?" 

<  All  the  wrong  way — backward,  you  know.  " 

Again  the  abbe  smiled. 
1  In  fact  it  was  a  disguised  hand?" 
'  I  don't  know;  it  was  very  boldly  written,  if  disguised. >: 
'  Stop  a  bit,"  said  the  abbe,  tekiug  up  what  he  called 
his  pen,  and,  after  dipping  it  into  the  ink,  he  wrote  on  a 
morsel  of  prepared  linen,  with  his  left  hand,  the  first  two 
or  three  words  of  the  accusation. 

Dantes  drew  back,  and  gazed  on  the  abbe  with  a  sensa> 
tion  almost  amounting  to  terror. 

"  How  very  astonishing,"  cried  he,  at  length. 

"  Why,  your  writing  exactly  resembles  that  of  the  accusa- 
tion !" 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  GBI8TO.  155 

"  Simply  because  that  accusation  had  been  written  with 
the  left  hand;  and  I  have  always  remarked  one  thing " 

"  What  is  that?" 

"That  whereas  all  writing  done  with  the  right  hand 
varies,  that  performed  with  the  left  hand  is  invariably 
similar." 

"  You  have  evidently  seen  and  observed  everything." 

"  Let  us  proceed." 

"  Oh!  yes,  yes!    Let  us  go  on." 

"  Now  as  regards  the  second  question.  Was  there  any 
person  whose  interest  it  was  to  prevent  your  marriage  with 
Mercedes?" 

"  Yes,  a  young  man  who  loved  her." 

"  And  his  name  was " 

"Fernand." 

"  That  is  a  Spanish  name,  I  think?" 

"  He  was  a  Catalan." 

"  You  imagine  him  capable  of  writing  the  letter?" 

"Oh,  no!  he  would  more  likely  have  got  rid  of  me  by 
sticking  a  knife  into  me." 

"  That  is  in  strict  accordance  with  the  Spanish  charac- 
ter; an  assassination  they  will  unhesitatingly  commit,  but 
an  act  of  cowardice,  never." 

"Besides,"  said  Dantes,  "the  various  circumstances 
mentioned  in  the  letter  were  wholly  unknown  to  him." 

"  You  had  never  spoken  of  them  yourself  to  any  one?" 

"To  no  person  whatever." 

"Not  even  to  your  mistress?" 

"  No,  not  even  to  my  betrothed  bride." 

"  Then  it  is  Danglars  beyond  a  doubt." 

"I  feel  quite  sure  of  it  now." 

"Wait  a  little.  Pray,  was  Danglars  acquainted  with 
Fernand?" 

"  No — yes,  he  was.     Now  I  recollect " 

"What?" 

"  To  have  seen  them  both  sitting  at  table  together  be- 
neath an  arbor  at  Pere  Pamphile  the  evening  before  the 
day  fixed  for  my  wedding.  They  were  in  earnest  conver- 
sation. Danglars  was  joking  in  a  friendly  way,  but  Fer- 
nand looked  pale  and  agitated." 

"Were  they  alone?" 

"  There  was  a  third  person  with  them  whom  I  knew 
perfectly  well,  and  who  had,  in  all  probability,  made  their 


156  THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO. 

acquaintance;  he  was  a  tailor  named  Caderousse,  but  he 
was  quite  intoxicated.  Stay!  stay!  How  strange  that  it 
should  not  have  occurred  to  me  before!  Now  I  remember 
quite  well  that  on  the  table  round  which  they  were  sitting 
were  pens,  ink,  and  paper.  Oh!  the  heartless,  treacherous 
scoundrels!"  exclaimed  Dantes,  pressing  his  hand  to  his 
throbbing  brows. 

"  Is  there  anything  else  I  can  assist  you  in  discovering, 
besides  the  villainy  of  your  friends?"  inquired  the  abbe. 

"  Yes,  yes,"  replied*  Dantes,  eagerly;  "  I  would  beg  of 
you,  who  sees  so  completely  to  the  depths  of  things,  and  to 
whom  the  greatest  mystery  seems  but  an  easy  riddle,  to 
explain  to  me  how  it  was  that  I  underwent  no  second 
examination,  was  never  brought  to  trial,  and  above  all,  my 
being  condemned  without  ever  having  had  sentence  passed 
on  me?" 

"  That  is  altogether  a  different  and  more  serious  matter," 
responded  the  abbe.  "  The  ways  of  justice  are  frequently 
too  dark  and  mysterious  to  be  easily  penetrated.  All  we 
have  hitherto  done  in  the  matter  has  been  child's  play.  If 
you  wish  me  to  enter  upon  the  more  difficult  part  of  the 
business,  you  must  assist  me  by  the  most  minute  informa- 
tion on  every  point." 

"  That  I  will  gladly.  So  pray  begin,  my  dear  abbe,  and 
ask  me  whatever  questions  you  please;  for,  in  good  truth, 
you  seem  to  turn  over  the  pages  of  my  past  life  far  better 
than  I  could  do  myself." 

"  In  the  first  place,  then,  who  examined  you — the  pro- 
cureur  du  roi,  his  deputy,  or  a  magistrate?" 

"The  deputy." 

"  Was  he  young  or  old?" 

"  About  six  or  seveu-and-twenty  years  of  age,  I  should 
say." 

"  To  be  sure,"  answered  the  abbe.  "  Old  enough  to  be 
ambitious,  but  not  sufficiently  so  to  have  hardened  his 
heart.  And  how  did  he  treat  you  ?" 

"With  more  of  mildness  than  severity." 

"  Did  you  tell  him  your  whole  story?" 

"I  did." 

"  And  did  his  conduct  change  at  ail  in  the  course  of 
your  examination?" 

"Yes;  certainly  he  did  appear  much  disturbed  when  he 
read  the  letter  that  had  brought  me  into  this  scrape.  He 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO.  157 

seemed  quite  overcome  at  the  thought  of  the  danger  I 
was  in."" 

"  You  were  in?" 

"  Yes;  for  whom  else  could  he  have  felt  any  apprehen- 
sions?*' 

"  Then  you  felt  quite  convinced  he  sincerely  pitied  your 
misfortune?" 

"  Why,  he  gave  me  one  great  proof  of  his  sympathy,  at 
least." 

"And  what  was  that?" 

"  He  burned  the  sole  proof  that  could  at  all  have  crim- 
inated me." 

"  Do  you  mean  the  letter  of  accusation?" 

"  Oh,  no!  the  letter  I  was  intrusted  to  convey  to  Paris." 

"  Are  you  sure  he  burned  it?" 

"He  did  so  before  my  eyes." 

"  Ay,  indeed!  that  alters  the  case,  and  leads  to  the  con- 
clusion that  this  man  might,  after  all,  be  a  greater  scoun- 
drel than  I  at  first  believed." 

"Upon  my  word, "said  Dantes,  "you  make  me  shudder. 
If  I  listen  much  longer  to  you,  I  shall  believe  the  world  is 
filled  with  tigers  and  crocodiles." 

"  Only  remember  that  two-legged  tigers  and  crocodiles 
are  more  dangerous  than  those  that  walk  on  four." 

"Never  mind,  let  us  go  on." 

"  With  all  my  heart!  You  tell  me  he  burned  the  letter 
in  your  presence?" 

"  He  did;  saying  at  the  same  time:  '  You  see  I  thus  de- 
stroy the  only  proof  existing  against  you/" 

"  This  action  is  somewhat  too  sublime  to  be  natural." 

"You  think  so?" 

"  I  am  sure  of  it.     To  whom  was  this  letter  addressed?" 

"To  M.  Noirtier,  No.  13  Rue  Coq-Heron,  Paris." 

"  Now  can  you  conceive  any  interest  your  heroic  deputy 
procureur  could  by  possibility  have  had  in  the  destruction 
of  that  letter?" 

"  Why,  it  is  not  altogether  impossible  he  might  have 
had,  for  he  made  me  promise  several  times  never  to  speak 
of  that  letter  to  any  one,  assuring  me  he  so  advised  me  for 
my  own  interest;  and  more  than  this,  he  insisted  on  my 
taking  a  solemn  oath  never  to  utter  the  name  mentioned 
in  the  address." 

"  Noii-tierl"  repeated  the  abbe;  "Noirtier! — I  knew  » 


158  THE  COUNT  OP  MONTE  CRISTO. 

person  of  that  name  at  the  court  of  the  queen  of  Etruria 
— a  Noirtier,  who  had  been  a  Girondin  during  the  revolu- 
tion! What  was  your  deputy  called?" 

"De  Villefort!" 

The  abbe  burst  into  a  fit  of  laughter;  while  Dantes  gazed 
on  him  in  utter  astonishment. 

"What  ails  you?"  said  he,  at  length. 

"  Do  you  see  this  ray  of  light?" 

"  I  do." 

"Well!  I  see  my  way  into  the  full  meaning  of  all  the 
proceedings  against  you  more  clearly  than  you  even  discern 
that  sunbeam.  Poor  fellow!  poor  young  man!  And  you 
tell  me  this  magistrate  expressed  great  sympathy  and  com- 
miseration for  you?" 

"He  did!" 

"  And  the  worthy  man  destroyed  your  compromising 
letter?" 

"'He  burned  it  before  me!" 

"  And  then  made  you  swear  never  to  utter  the  name  of 
Noirtier?" 

"Certainly!" 

"  Why,  you  poor,  short-sighted  simpleton,  can  you  not 
guess  who  this  Noirtier  was,  whose  very  name  he  was  so 
careful  to  keep  concealed?" 

"  Indeed,  I  cannot  I" 

"  No  other  than  the  father  of  your  sympathetic  deputy 
procureur." 

Had  a  thunderbolt  fallen  at  the  feet  of  Dantes,  or  hell 
opened  its  yawning  gulf  before  him,  he  could  not  have 
been  more  completely  transfixed  with  horror  than  at  the 
sound  of  words  so  wholly  unexpected,  revealing  as  they 
did  the  fiendish  perfidy  which  had  consigned  him  to  wear 
out  his  days  in  the  dark  cell  of  a  prison  that  was  to  him  as  a 
living  grave.  Starting  up,  he  clasped  his  hands  around 
his  head  as  though  to  prevent  his  very  brain  from  bursting, 
as  in  a  choked  and  almost  inarticulate  voice  he  exclaimed  : 

"  His  father  !  oh,  no  !  not  his  father,  surely  !" 

"  His  own  father,  I  assure  you,'"  replied  the  abbe  ;  "  his 
right  name  was  Noirtier  de  Villefort  I" 

At  this  instant  a  bright  light  shot  through  the  mind  of 
Dante's,  and  cleared  up  all  that  had  been  dark  and  obscure 
before.  The  change  that  had  come  over  Villefort  during 
the  examination  ;  the  destruction  of  the  letter,  the  exacted 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRI8TO.  159 

promise,  the  almost  supplicating  tones  of  the  magistrate, 
who  seemed  rather  to  implore  mercy  than  denounce  pun- 
ishment— all  returned  with  a  stunning  force  to  his  memory. 
A  cry  of  mental  agony  escaped  his  lips,  and  he  staggered 
against  the  wall  almost  like  a  drunken  man ;  then,  as 
the  paroxysm  passed  away,  he  hurried  to  the  opening  con- 
ducting from  the  abbe's  cell  to  his  own,  and  said  : 

"I  must  be  alone  to  think  over  all  this." 

When  he  regained  his  dungeon  he  threw  himself  on  his 
bed,  where  the  turnkey  found  him  at  his  evening  visit, 
sitting,  with  fixed  gaze  and  contracted  features,  still  and 
motionless  as  a  statue  ;  but,  during  hours  of  deep  medita- 
tion, which  to  him  had  seemed  but  as  minutes,  he  had 
formed  a  fearful  resolution,  and  bound  himself  to  its  fulfill- 
ment by  a  solemn  oath.  Dantes  was  at  length  roused 
from  his  reverie  by  the  voice  of  Faria,  who,  having  also 
been  visited  by  his  jailer,  had  come  to  invite  his  fellow- 
sufferer  to  share  his  supper.  The  reputation  of  being  out 
of  his  mind,  though  harmlessly  and  even  amusingly  so,  had 
procured  for  the  abbe  greater  privileges  than  were  allowed 
to  prisoners  in  general.  Ho  was  supplied  with  bread  of  a 
finer,  whiter  description  than  the  usual  prison  fare,  and 
even  regaled  each  Sunday  with  a  small  quantity  of  wine  ; 
the  present  day  chanced  to  be  Sunday,  and  the  abbe  came, 
delighted  at  having  such  luxuries  to  offer  his  new  friend. 
Dantes  followed  him  with  a  firm  and  assured  step ;  his 
features  had  lost  their  almost  spasmodic  contraction,  and 
now  wore  their  usual  expression  ;  but  there  was  that  in  his 
whole  appearance  that  bespoke  one  who  had  come  to  a  fixed 
and  desperate  resolve.  Faria  bent  on  him  his  penetrating 
eyes:  "I  regret  now,"  said  he,  "having  helped  you  in 
your  late  inquiries,  or  having  given  you  the  information  I 

"Why  so?"  inquired  Dantds. 

"  Because  it  has  instilled  a  new  passion  in  your  heart — 
that  of  vengeance." 

A  bitter  smile  played  over  the  features  of  the  young 
man. 

«'  Let  us  talk  of  something  else,"  said  he. 

Again  the  abbe  looked  at  him,  then  mournfully  shook 
his  head ;  but,  in  accordance  with  DanteV  request,  he  began 
to  speak  of  other  matters.  The  elder  prisoner  was  one  of 
those  persons  whose  conversation,  like  that  of  all  who  have 


160  THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CR1STO. 

experienced  many  trials,  contained  many  useful  and  im- 
portant hints  as  well  as  sound  information  ;  but  it  was 
never  egotistical,  for  the  unfortunate  man  never  alluded  to 
his  own  sorrows.  Dantes  listened  with  admiring  attention 
to  all  he  said  ;  some  of  his  remarks  corresponded  with  what 
he  already  knew,  or  applied  to  the  sort  of  knowledge  his 
nautical  life  had  enabled  him  to  acquire.  A  part  of  the 
good  abbe's  words,  however,  were  wholly  incomprehensible 
to  him ;  but,  like  those  aurora  borealis  which  serve  to 
light  the  navigators  in  northern  latitudes,  they  sufficed  to 
open  fresh  views  to  the  inquiring  mind  of  the  listener,  and 
to  give  a  glimpse  of  new  horizons,  illumined  by  the  wild 
meteoric  flash,  enabling  him  justly  to  estimate  the  delight 
an  intellectual  mind  would  have  in  following  the  high  and 
towering  spirit  of  one  so  richly  gifted  as  Faria  in  all  the 
giddiest  heights  or  lowest  depths  of  science. 

"  You  must  teach  me  a  small  part  of  what  you  know," 
said  Dautes,  "  if  only  to  prevent  your  growing  weary  of 
me.  I  can  well  believe  that  so  learned  a  person  as  yourself 
would  prefer  absolute  solitude  to  being  tormented  with  the 
company  of  one  as  ignorant  and  uninformed  as  myself.  If 
you  will  only  agree  to  my  request,  I  promise  you  never  to 
mention  another  word  of  escaping." 

The  abbe  smiled. 

"Alas  !  my  child,"  said  he,  "human  knowledge  is  con- 
fined within  very  narrow  limits  ;  and  when  I  have  taught 
you  mathematics,  physics,  history,  and  the  three  or  four 
modern  languages  with  which  I  am  acquainted,  you  will 
know  as  much  as  I  do  myself.  Now,  it  will  scarcely  re- 
quire two  years  for  me  to  communicate  to  you  the  stock  of 
learning  I  possess." 

"Two  years!"  exclaimed  Dantes  ;  "do  you  really  believe 
I  can  acquire  all  these  things  in  so  short  a  time?" 

"  Not  their  application,  certainly,  but  their  principles 
you  may  ;  to  learn  is  not  to  know  ;  there  are  the  learners 
and  the  learned.  Memory  makes  the  one,  philosophy  the 
other." 

"But  can  I  not  learn  philosophy  as  well  as  other 
things?" 

"  My  son,  philosophy,  as  I  understand  it,  is  reduceable 
to  no  rules  by  which  it  can  be  learned  ;  it  is  the  amalga- 
mation of  all  the  sciences,  the  golden  cloud  which  bears  the 
soul  to  heaven." 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRI8TO.  161 

"Well,  then,"  said  Dantes,  "leaving  philosophy  out  of 
the  question,  tell  me  what  you  shall  teach  me  first?  I  feel 
my  great  need  of  scientific  knowledge,  and  long  to  begin 
the  work  of  improvement ;  say,  when  shall  we  commence?" 

"  Directly,  if  you  will  "  said  the  abbe. 

And  that  very  evening  the  prisoners  sketched  a  plan  of 
education,  to  be  entered  upon  the  following  day.  Dante's 
possessed  a  prodigious  memory,  combined  with  an  astonish- 
ing quickness  and  readiness  of  conception  ;  the  mathe- 
matical turn  of  his  mind  rendered  him  apt  at  all  kinds  of 
calculation,  while  his  naturally  poetical  feelings  threw  a 
light  and  pleasing  veil  over  the  dry  reality  of  arithmetical 
computation  or  the  rigid  severity  of  lines.  He  already 
knew  Italian,  and  had  also  picked  up  a  little  of  the  Eomaic 
dialect  during  his  different  voyages  to  the  east ;  and  by  the 
aid  of  these  two  languages  he  easily  comprehended  the 
construction  of  all  the  others,  so  that  at  the  end  of  six 
months  he  began  to  speak  Spanish,  English,  and  German. 
In  strict  accordance  with  the  promise  made  to  the  abbe, 
Dante's  never  even  alluded  to  flight ;  it  might  have  been 
that  the  delight  his  studies  afforded  him  supplied  the  place 
of  liberty ;  or,  probably,  the  recollection  of  his  pledged 
word  (a  point,  as  we  have  already  seen,  to  which  he  paid  a 
rigid  attention),  kept  him  reverting  to  any  plan  for  escape; 
but,  absorbed  in  the  acquisition  of  knowledge,  days,  even 
months,  passed  by  unheeded  in  one  rapid  and  instructive 
course  ;  time  flew  on,  and  at  the  end  of  a  year  Dante's  was 
a  new  man.  With  Faria,  on  the  contrary,  Dantes  remarked 
that,  spite  of  the  relief  his  society  afforded,  he  daily  grew 
sadder  ;  one  thought  seemed  incessantly  to  harass  and  dis- 
tract his  mind.  Sometimes  he  would  fall  into  long  rev- 
eries, sigh  heavily  and  involuntarily,  then  suddenly  rise, 
and,  with  folded  arms,  begin  pacing  the  confined  space  of 
his  dungeon.  One  day  he  stopped  all  at  once  in  the  midst 
of  these  so  often-repeated  promenades,  and  exclaimed: 
"  Ah,  if  there  were  no  sentinel!" 

"  There  shall  not  be  one  a  minute  longer  than  you 
please,"  said  Dantes,  who  had  followed  the  working  of  liis 
thoughts  as  accurately  as  though  his  brain  were  inclosed  in 
crystal  so  clear  as  to  display  its  minutest  operations. 

"  I  have  already  told  you,"  answered  the  abbe,  "  that  I 
loathe  the  idea  of  shedding  blood." 

"  Still,  in  our  case,  the  death  we  should  bestow  would 


162  THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO. 

not  be  dictated  by  any  wild  or  savage  propensity,  but  as  a 
necessary  step  to  secure  our  own  personal  safety  and  preser- 
vation." 

"  No  matter!  I  could  never  agree  to  it." 

"  Still,  you  have  thought  of  it?" 

"  Incessantly,  alas!"  cried  the  abbe. 

"And  you  have  discovered  a  means  of  regaining  our 
freedom,  have  you  not?"  asked  Dantes,  eagerly. 

"  I  have;  if  it  were  only  possible  to  place  a  blind  and 
deaf  sentinel  in  the  gallery  beyond  us." 

"  I  will  undertake  to  render  him  both,"  replied  the 
young  man,  with  an  air  of  determined  resolution  that  made 
his  companion  shudder. 

"  No,  no!"  cried  the  abbe;  "  I  tell  you  the  thing  is  im- 
possible; name  it  no  more." 

In  vain  did  Dantes  endeavor  to  renew  the  subject;  the 
abbe  shook  his  head  in  token  of  disapproval,  but  refused 
any  further  conversation  respecting  it.  Three  months 
passed  away. 

"Do  you  feel  yourself  strong?"  inquired  the  abbe  of 
Dantes. 

The  young  man,  in  reply,  took  up  the  chisel,  bent  it 
into  the  form  of  a  horseshoe,  and  then  as  readily  straight- 
ened it. 

"  And  will  you  engage  not  to  do  any  harm  to  the  sentry, 
except  as  a  last  extremity?" 

"  I  promise,  on  my  honor,  not  to  hurt  a  hair  of  his  head 
unless  positively  obliged  for  our  mutual  preservation." 

"  Then,"  said  the  abbe,  "  we  may  hope  to  put  our  de- 
sign into  execution." 

"  And  how  long  shall  we  be  in  accomplishing  the  neces- 
sary work?" 

'  At  least  a  year." 
'  And  shall  we  begin  at  once?" 
'  Directly." 

'  We  have  lost  a  year  to  no  purpose!"  cried  Dante's. 
'  Do  you  consider  the  last  twelve  months  as  wasted?" 
asked  the  abbe,  in  a  tone  of  mild  reproach. 

"  Forgive  me!"  cried  Edmond,  blushing  deeply;  "  I  am, 
indeed,  ungrateful  to  have  hinted  such  a  thing." 

"  Tut,  tut,"  answered  the  abbe.  "  man  is  but  man  at 
last,  and  you  are  about  the  best  specimen  of  the  genus  I 
have  ever  known.  Come,  let  me  show  you  my  plan."  The 


THE  CO  UNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO.  \  63 

abbe  then  showed  Dante's  the  sketch  he  had  made  for  their 
escape.  It  consisted  of  a  plan  of  his  own  cell  and  that  of 
Dantes,  with  the  corridor  which  united  them.  In  this 
passage  he  proposed  to  form  a  tunnel,  such  as  is  employed 
in  mines;  this  tunnel  would  conduct  the  two  prisoners  im- 
mediately beneath  the  gallery  where  the  sentry"  kept  watch; 
once  there  a  larg^  excavation  would  be  made,  and  one  of 
the  flagstones,  with  which  the  gallery  was  paved,  be  so 
completely  loosened  that,  at  the  desired  moment,  it  would 
give  way  beneath  the  soldier's  feet,  who,  falling  into  the 
excavation  below,  would  be  immediately  bound  and  gagged 
ere,  stunned  by  the  effects  of  his  fall,  he  had  power  to  offer 
any  resistance.  The  prisoners  were  then  to  make  their  way 
through  one  of  the  gallery  windows,  and  to  let  themselves 
down  from  the  outer  walls  by  means  of  the  abbe's  ladder  of 
cords.  The  eyes  of  Dantes  sparkled  with  joy,  and  he 
rubbed  his  hands  with  delight  at  the  idea  of  a  plan  so  sim- 
ple, yet  apparently  so  certain  to  succeed. 

That  very  day  the  miners  commenced  their  labor,  and 
that  with  so  much  more  vigor  and  alacrity,  as  it  succeeded 
to  a  long  rest  from  fatigue,  and  was  destined,  in  all  proba- 
bility, to  carry  out  the  dearest  wish  of  the  heart  of  each. 
Nothing  interrupted  the  progress  of  their  work  except  the 
necessity  of  returning  to  their  respective  cells  against  the 
hour  in  which  their  jailer  was  in  the  habit  of  visiting  them; 
they  had  learned  to  distinguish  the  almost  imperceptible 
sound  of  his  footsteps  as  he  descended  toward  their  dun- 
geons, and,  happily,  never  failed  being  prepared  for  his 
coming.  The  fresh  earth  excavated  during  their  present 
work,  and  which  would  have  entirely  blocked  up  the  old 
passage,  was  thrown,  by  degrees  and  with  the  utmost  pre- 
caution, out  of  the  window  in  either  Faria's  or  Dantes  cell, 
the  rubbish  being  first  pulverized  so  finely  that  the  night 
wind  carried  it  far  away,  without  permitting  the  smallest 
trace  to  remain.  More  than  a  year  had  been  consumed  in 
this  undertaking,  the  only  tools  for  which  had  been  a 
chisel,  a  knife  and  a  wooden  lever;  Faria  still  continuing 
to  instruct  Dantes  by  conversing  with  him,  sometimes  in 
one  language,  sometimes  in  another;  at  others  relating  to 
him  the  history  of  nations  and  great  men  who,  from  time 
to  time,  have  left  behind  them  one  of  those  bright  trucks 
called  glory. 

The  abbe  was  a  man  of  the  world,  and  had,  moreover, 


164  THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CR1STO. 

mixed  in  the  first  society  of  the  day;  his  appearance  was 
impressed  with  that  air  of  melancholy  dignity  which 
Dantes,  thanks  to  the  imitative  powers  bestowed  on  him 
by  nature,  easily  acquired,  as  well  as  that  outward  polish 
and  politeness  he  had  before  been  wanting  in,  and  which 
is  seldom  possessed  except  by  those  who  have  been  placed 
In  constant  intercourse  witli  persons  of  high  birth  and 
breeding.  At  the  end  of  fifteen  months  the  tunnel  was 
made  and  the  excavation  completed  beneath  the  gallery, 
and  the  two  workmen  could  distinctly  hear  the  measured 
tread  of  the  sentinel  as  he  paced  to  and  fro  over  their 
heads. 

Compelled,  as  they  were,  to  await  a  night  sufficiently 
dark  to  favor  their  flight,  they  were  obliged  to  defer  their 
final  attempt  till  that  auspicious  moment  should  arrive; 
their  greatest  dread  now  was  lest  the  stone  through  which 
the  sentry  was  doomed  to  fall  should  give  way  before  its 
right  time,  and  this  they  had  in  some  measure  provided 
against  by  placing  under  it,  as  a  kind  of  a  prop,  a  sort  of 
bearer  they  had  discovered  among  the  foundations  through 
which  they  had  worked  their  way.  Dantes  was  occupied 
in  arranging  this  piece  of  wood  when  he  heard  Faria,  who 
had  remained  in  Edmond's  cell  for  the  purpose  of  cutting 
a  peg  to  secure  their  rope-ladder,  call  to  him  in  accents  of 
pain  and  suffering.  Dantes  hastened  to  his  dungeon, 
where  he  found  him  standing  in  the  middle  of  the  room, 
pale  as  death,  his  forehead  streaming  with  perspiration, 
and  his  hands  clinched  tightly  together. 

"Gracious  heavens!"  exclaimed  Dantes,  "'what  is  the 
matter — what  has  happened?" 

"  Quick!  quick!"  returned  the  abbe,  "listen  to  what  I 
have  to  say." 

Dantes  looked  in  fear  and  wonder  at  the  livid  counte- 
nance of  Faria,  whose  eyes,  already  dull  and  sunken,  were 
circled  by  a  halo  of  a  bluish  cast,  his  lips  were  white  as 
those  of  a  corpse,  and  his  very  hair  seemed  to  stand  on 
end. 

"  For  God's  sake!"  cried  Dantes,  "  what  is  the  meaning 
of  this?  Tell  me,  I  beseech  you,  what  ails  you?" 

"  Alas!"  faltered  out  the  abbe,  "  all  is  over  with  me.  I 
am  seized  with  a  terrible,  perhaps  mortal,  illness;  I  can 
feel  that  the  paroxysm  is  fast  approaching.  I  had  a  similai 
attack  the  year  previous  to  my  imprisonment.  This  malady 


THE  CO  UNT  OF  MONTE  CRI8TO.  165 

admits  of  but  one  remedy;  I  will  tell  you  what  that  is.  Go 
into  my  cell  as  quickly  as  you' can;  draw  out  one  of  the 
feet  that  support  the  bed;  you  will  find  it  has  been  hol- 
lowed out  for  the  purpose  of  containing  a  small  phial  you  will 
see  there  half-filled  with  a  red-looking  fluid.  Bring  it  to 
me — or  rather,  no,  no!  I  may  be  found  here;  therefore, 
help  me  back  to  my  room  while  I  have  any  strength  to 
drag  myself  along.  Who  knows  what  may  happen  or  how 
long  the  fit  may  last?" 

Spite  of  the  magnitude  of  the  misfortune  which  thus 
suddenly  frustrated  his  hopes,  Dantes  lost  not  his  presence 
of  mind,  but  descended  into  the  corridor,  dragging  his  un- 
fortunate companion  with  him  ;  then,  half  carrying,  half 
supporting  him,  he  managed  to  reach  the  abbe's  chamber, 
when  he  immediately  laid  the  sufferer  on  his  bed. 

"  Thanks!"  said  the  poor  abbe,  shivering  as  though  his 
veins  were  filled  with  ice.  "Now  that  I  am  safely  here, 
let  me  explain  to  you  the  nature  of  my  attack  and  the  ap- 
pearance it  will  present.  I  am  seized  with  a  fit  of  cata- 
lepsy ;  when  it  comes  to  its  height  I  may,  probably,  lie 
still  and  motionless  as  though  dead,  uttering  neither  sigh 
nor  groan.  On  the  other  hand,  the  symptoms  may  be 
much  more  violent,  and  cause  me  to  fall  into  fearful  con- 
vulsions, cover  my  lips  with  foaming,  and  force  from  me 
the  most  piercing  shrieks.  This  last  evil  you  must  care- 
fully guard  against,  for,  were  my  cries  to  be  heard,  it  is 
more  than  probable  I  should  be  removed  to  another  part 
of  the  prison  and  we  be  separated  forever.  When  I  be- 
come quite  motionless,  cold,  and  rigid  as  a  corpse,  then, 
and  not  before,  you  understand,  force  open  my  teeth  with 
a  chisel,  pour  from  eight  to  ten  drops  of  the  liquor  con- 
tained in  the  phial  down  my  throat,  and  I  may  perhaps 
revive." 

"Perhaps!"  exclaimed  Dantes,  in  grief-stricken  tones. 

"Help!  help!"  cried  the  abbe,  "I— I— die— I " 

So  sudden  and  violent  was  the  fit  that  the  unfortunate 
prisoner  was  unable  to  complete  the  sentence  begun;  a 
violent  convulsion  shook  his  whole  frame,  his  eyes  started 
from  their  sockets,  his  mouth  was  drawn  on  one  side,  his 
cheeks  became  purple,  he  struggled,  foamed,  dashed  him- 
self about,  and"  uttered  the  most  dreadful  cries,  which, 
however,  Dantd  prevented  from  being  heard  by  covering 
his  head  with  the  blanket.  The  fit  lasted  two  hours; 

DUMAS — VOL.  I. — 8 


166  THE  CO  VNT  OF  MONTE  CRI8TO. 

then,  more  helpless  than  an  infant,  and  colder  and  paler 
than  marble,  more  crushed  and  broken  than  a  reed 
trampled  under  foot,  he  stretched  himself  out  as  though 
in  the  agonies  of  death,  and  became  of  the  ghastly  hue  of 
the  tomb. 

Edmond  waited  till  life  seemed  extinct  in  the  body  of 
his  friend,  then,  taking  up  the  chisel,  he  with  difficulty 
forced  open  the  closely  fixed  jaws,  carefully  poured  the  ap- 
pointed number  of  drops  down  the  rigid  throat,  and  anx- 
iously waited  the  result.  An  hour  passed  away  without 
the  old  man's  giving  the  least  sign  of  returning  anima- 
tion. Dantes  began  to  fear  he  had  delayed  too  long  ere 
he  administered  the  remedy,  and,  thrusting  his  hands  into 
his  hair,  continued  gazing  on  the  lifeless  features  of  his 
friend  in  an  agony  of  despair.  At  length  a  slight  color 
tinged  the  livid  cheeks,  consciousness  returned  to  the  dull, 
open  eyeballs,  a  faint  sigh  issued  from  the  lips,  and  the 
sufferer  made  a  feeble  effort  to  move. 

"  He  is  saved!  he  is  saved!"  cried  Dantes,  in  a  paroxysm 
of  delight. 

The  sick  man  was  not  yet  able  to  speak,  but  he  pointed 
with  evident  anxiety  toward  the  door.  Dantes  listened, 
and  plainly  distinguished  the  approaching  steps  of  the 
jailer.  It  was,  therefore,  nearly  7  o'clock ;  but  Edmond's 
anxiety  had  put  all  thoughts  of  time  out  of  his  head.  The 
young  man  sprang  to  the  entrance,  darted  through  it,  care- 
fully drawing  the  stone  over  the  opening,  and  hurried  to  his 
cell.  He  had  scarcely  done  so  before  the  door  opened,  and 
disclosed  to  the  jailer's  inquisitorial  gaze  the  prisoner  sea  ted, 
as  usual,  on  the  side  of  his  bed.  Almost  before  the  key  had 
turned  in  the  lock,  and  before  the  departing  steps  of  the 
jailer  had  died  away  in  the  long  corridor  he  had  to  traverse, 
Dantes,  whose  restless  anxiety  concerning  his  friend  left 
no  desire  to  touch  the  food  brought  him,  hurried  back  to 
the  abbe's  chamber,  and,  raising  the  stone  by  pressing  his 
head  against  it,  was  soon  beside  the  sick  man's  couch. 
Faria  had  now  fully  regained  his  cousciousnes,  but  he  still 
lay  helphess  and  exhausted  on  his  miserable  bed. 

"I  did  not  expect  to  see  you  again/'  said  he,  feebly,  to 
Dantes. 

"And  why  not?"  asked  the  young  man.  "Did  you 
fancy  yourself  dying?" 

"  No,  I  had  no  such  idea ;  but,  knowing  that  all  was 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  (JRISTO  167 

ready  for  your  flight,  I  considered  you  had  availed  your- 
self of  it  and  were  gone." 

The  deep  glow  of  indignation  suffused  the  cheeks  of 
Dantes. 

"And  did  you  really  think  so  meanly  of  me,"  cried  he, 
"as  to  believe  I  would  depart  without  you?" 

"At  least/'  said  the  abbe,  "I  now  see  how  wrong  such 
an  opinion  would  have  been.  Alas,  alas!  I  am  fearfully 
exhausted  and  debilitated  by  this  attack." 

"Be  of  good  cheer,"  replied  Dantes ;  "your  strength 
will  return." 

And  as  he  spoke  he  seated  himself  on  the  bed  beside 
Faria  and  tenderly  chafed  his  chilled  hands.  The  abbe 
shook  his  head. 

"  The  former  of  these  fits,"  said  he,  "lasted  but  half  an 
hour,  at  the  termination  of  which  I  experienced  no  other 
feeling  than  a  great  sensation  of  hunger,  and  I  rose  from 
my  bed  without  requiring  the  least  help;  now  I  can  neither 
move  my  right  arm  nor  leg,  and  my  head  seems  uncom- 
fortable, proving  a  rush  of  blood  to  the  brain.  The  next 
of  these  fits  will  either  carry  me  off  or  leave  me  paralyzed 
for  life." 

"No,  no!"  caied  Dant&s;  "you  are  mistaken — you  will 
not  die!  And  your  third  attack  (if,  indeed,  you  should 
have  another)  will  find  you  at  liberty.  We  shall  save  you 
another  time,  as  we  have  done  this,  only  with  a  better 
chance,  because  we  shall  be  able  to  command  every  requi- 
site assistance." 

"  My  good  Edmond,"  answered  the  abbe,  "  be  not  de- 
ceived. The  attack  which  has  just  passed  away  condemns 
me  forever  to  the  walls  of  a  prison.  None  can  fly  from 
their  dungeon  but  those  who  can  walk." 

"  Well,  well,  perhaps  just  now  you  are  not  in  a  condition 
to  effect  your  escape  ;  but  there  is  no  hurry  ;  we  have 
waited  so  long  we  can  very  easily  defer  our  purpose  a  little 
longer;  say  a  week,  a  month — two,  if  necessary  ;  by  that 
time  you  will  be  quite  well  and  strong;  and  as  it  only  re- 
mains with  us  to  fix  the  hour  and  minute,  we  will  choose 
the  first  instant  that  you  feel  able  to  swim  to  execute  our 
project." 

"  I  shall  never  swim  again,"  replied  Faria.  "  This  arm  Is 
paralyzed;  not  for  a  time,  but  forever.  Lift  it,  and  judge 
by  its  weight  if  I  am  mistaken." 


168  ZEE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRI8TO. 

The  young  man  raised  the  arm,  which  fell  back  by  its 
own  weight,  perfectly  inanimate  and  helpless.  A  sigh  es- 
caped him. 

"You  are  convinced  now,  Edmond,  are  you  not?"  asked 
the  abbe.  "  Depend  upon  it,  I  know  what  I  say.  Since 
the  first  attack  I  experienced  of  this  malady  I  have  continu- 
ally reflected  on  it.  Indeed,  I  expected  it,  for  it  is  a 
family  inheritance,  both  my  father  and  grandfather  having 
been  taken  off  by  it.  The  physician  who  prepared  for  me 
the  remedy  I  have  twice  successfully  taken  was  no  other 
than  the  celebrated  Cabanis,  and  he  predicted  a  similar  end 
for  me." 

" The  physician  may  be  mistaken!"  exclaimed  Dantes. 
"And  as  for  your  poor  arm,  what  difference  will  that  make 
in  your  escape?  Never  mind,  if  you  cannot  swim  I  can 
take  you  on  my  shoulders  and  swim  for  both  of  us." 

"  My  son,"  said  the  abbe,  ' '  you,  who  are  a  sailor  and  a 
swimmer,  must  know  as  well  as  I  do  that  a  man  so  loaded 
would  sink  ere  he  had  advanced  fifty  yards  in  the  sea. 
Cease,  then,  to  allow  yourself  to  be  duped  by  vain  hopes 
that  even  your  own  excellent  heart  refuses  to  believe  in. 
Here  I  shall  remain  till  the  hour  of  my  deliverance  ar- 
rives; and  that,  in  all  human  probability,  will  be  the  hour 
of  my  death.  As  for  you,  who  are  young  and  active, 
delay  not  on  my  account,  but  fly — go — I  give  you  back 
your  promise." 

"  It  is  well,"  said  Dantes.  "  And  now  hear  my  determi- 
nation, also."  Then,  rising  and  extending  his  hand  with 
an  air  of  solemnity  over  the  old  man's  head,  he  slowly 
added:  "  Here  I  swear  to  remain  with  you  so  long  as  life 
is  spared  to  you  and  that  death  only  shall  divide  us." 

Faria  gazed  fondly  on  his  noble-hearted  but  single- 
hearted  young  friend,  and  read  in  his  honest,  open  coun- 
tenance ample  confirmation  of  truthfulness,  as  well  as 
sincere,  affectionate  and  faithful  devotion. 

"  Thanks,  my  child,"  murmured  the  invalid,  extending 
the  one  hand  of  which  he  still  retained  the  use.  "Thanks 
for  your  generous  offer,  which  I  accept  as  frankly  as  it 
was  made."  Then,  after  a  short  pause,  he  added:  "You 
may  one  of  these  days  reap  the  reward  of  your  disinterested 
devotion.  But  as  I  cannot,  and  you  will  not,  quit  this 
place,  it  becomes  necessary  to  fill  up  the  excavation  beneath 
the  soldier's  gallery;  he  might,  by  chance,  find  out  the 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO.  169 

hollow  sound  produced  by  his  footsteps  Qver  the  excavated 
ground  and  call  the  attention  of  his  officer  to  the  circum- 
stance. That  would  bring  about  a  discovery  which  would 
inevitably  lead  to  our  being  separated.  Go,"  then,  and  set 
about  this  work,  in  which,  unhappily,  I  can  offer  you  no 
assistance;  keep  &t  it  all  night,  if  necessary,  and  do  not 
return  here  to-morrow  till  after  the  jailer  has  visited  me. 
I  shall  have  something  of  the  greatest  importance  to  com- 
municate to  you." 

"'Dantes  took  the  hand  of  the  abbe  in  his  and  affec- 
tionately pressed  it.  Faria  smiled  encouragingly  on  him, 
and  the  young  man  retired  to  his  task,  filled  with  a  re- 
ligious determination  faithfully  and  unflinchingly  to  dis- 
charge the  vow  which  bound  him  to  his  afflicted  friend. 


CHAPTER  XVIII. 

THE   TREASURE. 

WHEN"  Dante's  returned  next  morning  to  the  chamber  of 
his  companion  in  captivity  he  found  Faria  seated  and 
looking  composed.  In  the  ray  of  light  which  entered  by 
the  narrow  window  of  his  cell  he  held  open  in  his  left 
hand,  of  which  alone,  it  will  be  recollected,  he  retained 
the  use,  a  morsel  of  paper,  which,  from  being  constantly 
rolled  into  u  small  compass,  had  the  form  of  a  cylinder 
and  was  not  easily  kept  open.  He  did  not  speak,  but 
showed  the  paper  to  Dantes. 

"  What  is  that?"  he  inquired. 

"  Look  at  it,"  said  the  abb6,  with  a  smile. 

"  I  have  looked  at  it  with  all  possible  attention,"  said 
Dantes,  "and  I  only  see  a  half-burned  paper,  on  which 
are  traces  of  gothic  characters,  traced  with  a  peculiar  kind 
of  ink." 

"  This  paper,  my  friend,"  said  Faria,  "  I  may  now  avow 
to  you,  since  I  have  proved  you — this  paper  is  my  treasure, 
of  which,  from  this  day  forth,  one-half  belongs  to  you." 

A  cold  damp  started  to  Dantes'  brow.  Until  this  day — 
and  what  a  space  of  time — he  had  avoided  talking  to  the 
abbe  of  this  treasure,  the  source  whence  the  accusation  of 
madness  against  the  poor  abbe  was  derived.  With  his  in- 
stinctive delicacy  Edrnond  had  preferred  avoiding  any 


170  THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO. 

touch  on  this  painful  chord,  and  Faria  had  been  equally 
silent.  He  had  taken  the  silence  of  the  old  man  for  a  re- 
turn to  reason,  and  now  these  few  words  uttered  by  Faria, 
after  so  painful  a  crisis,  seemed  to  announce  a  serious  re- 
lapse of  mental  alienation. 

"  Your  treasure?"  stammered  Dantes. 

Faria  smiled. 

"  Yes,"  said  he.  ' '  You  have,  indeed,  a  noble  heart,  Ed- 
mond,  and  I  see  by  your  paleness  and  your  shudder  what 
is  passing  in  your  heart  at  this  moment.  No,  be  assured, 
I  am  not  mad.  This  treasure  exists,  Dantes,  and  if  I  have 
not  been  allowed  to  possess  it  you  will.  Yes — you.  No 
one  would  listen  to  me  or  believe  me,  because  they  thought 
me  mad;  but  you,  who  must  know  that  I  am  not,  listen  to 
me,  and  believe  me  afterward  if  you  will." 

"Alas!"  murmured  Edmond,  to  himself,  "this  is  a  ter- 
rible relapse!  There  was  only  this  blow  wanting."  Then 
he  said  aloud:  "My  dear  friend,  your  attack  has,  perhaps, 
fatigued  you;  had  you  not  better  repose  awhile?  To-mor- 
row, if  you  will,  I  will  hear  your  narrative,  but  to-day  I 
wish  to  nurse  you  carefully.  Besides,"  he  said,  "  a 
treasure  is  not  a  thing  we  need  hurry." 

"On  the  contrary,  it  must  be  hurried,  Ed mond!"  re- 
plied the  old  man.  "  Who  knows  if  to-morrow,  or  the 
next  day  after,  the  third  attack  may  not  come  on?  And, 
then,  must  not  all  be  finished?  Yes,  indeed,  I  have  often 
thought  with  a  bitter  joy  that  these  riches,  which  would 
make  the  wealth  of  a  dozen  families,  will  be  forever  lost 
to  those  men  who  persecute  me.  This  idea  was  one  of 
vengeance  to  me,  and  I  tasted  it  slowly  in  the  night  of  my 
dungeon  and  the  despair  of  my  captivity.  But  now  I 
have  forgiven  the  world  for  the  love  of  you";  now  I  see  you 
young  and  full  of  hope  and  prospect — now  that  I  think  of 
all  that  may  result  to  you  in  the  good  fortune  of  such  a 
disclosure,  I  shudder  at  any  delay  and  tremble  lest  I  should 
not  assure  to  one  as  worthy  as  yourself  the  possession  of  so 
vast  an  amount  of  hidden  treasure." 

Edmond  turned  away  his  head  with  a  sigh. 

"  You  persist  in  your  incredulity,  Edmond,"  continued 
Faria.  "  My  words  have  not  convinced  you.  L  see  you 
require  proofs.  Well,  then,  read  this  paper,  which  I  have 
never  shown  to  any  one." 

"  To-morrow,  my  dear  friend,"  said  Edmond,  desirous 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRI8TO.  171 

of  not  yielding  to  the  old  man's  madness.  "  I  thought  it 
was  understood  that  we  should  not  talk  of  that  until  to- 
morrow." 

"  Then  we  will  not  talk  of  it  until  to-morrow,  but  read 
this  paper  to-day." 

"  I  will  not  irritate  him/'  thought  Edmond,  and,  taking 
the  paper,  of  which  half  was  wanting,  having  been  burned, 
no  doubt  by  some  accident,  he  read: 

"  This  treasure,  which  may  amount  to  two  .  .  . 
of  Roman  crowns  in  the  most  distant  a  ... 
of  the  second  opening  wh  .  .  . 
declare  to  belong  to  him  alo  .  .  . 
heir  .  .  . 

"  25th  April,  149  ...  " 

"  Well?"  said  Faria,  when  the  young  man  had  finished 
reading  it. 

"  Why,"  replied  Dante's,  "  I  see  nothing  but  broken 
lines  and  unconnected  words,  which  are  rendered  illegible 
by  fire." 

"  Yes,  to  you,  my  friend,  who  read  them  for  the  first 
time;  but  not  for  me,  who  have  grown  pale  over  them  by 
many  nights'  study,  and  have  reconstructed  every  phrase, 
completed  every  thought." 

"  And  do  you  believe  you  have  discovered  the  concealed 
sense?" 

"  I  am  sure  I  have,  and  you  shall  judge  for  yourself; 
but  first  listen  to  the  history  of  this  paper." 

"Silence!"  exclaimed  Dantes.  "Steps  approach — I  go 
— adieu." 

And  Dantes,  happy  to  escape  the  history  and  explana- 
tion which  could  not  fail  to  confirm  to  him  his  friend's 
malady,  glided  like  a  snake  along  the  narrow  passage; 
while  Faria,  restored  by  his  alarm  to  a  kind  of  activity, 
pushed  with  his  foot  the  stone  into  its  place  and  covered 
it  with  a  mat  the  more  effectually  to  avoid  discovery. 

It  was  the  governor,  who,  hearing  of  Faria's  accident 
from  the  jailer,  had  come  in  person  to  see  him. 

Faria  sat  up  to  receive  him,  and  continued  to  conceal 
from  the  governor  the  paralysis  that  had  already  half- 
stricken  him  with  death.  His  fear  was  lest  the  governor, 
touched  with  pity,  might  order  him  to  be  removed  to  a 


172  THE  CO  UNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO. 

prison  more  wholesome,  and  thus  separate  him  from  his 
young  companion.  But  fortunately  this  was  not  the  case, 
and  the  governor  left  him,  convinced  that  the  poor  mad- 
man, for  whom  in  his  heart  he  felt  a  kind  of  affection,  was 
only  affected  with  a  slight  indisposition. 

During  this  time  Edmond,  seated  on  his  bed,  with  his 
head  in  his  hands,  tried  to  collect  his  scattered  thoughts. 
All  was  so  rational,  so  grand,  so  logical,  with  Faria,  since 
he  had  known  him,  that  he  could  not  understand  how  so 
much  wisdom  on  all  points  could  be  allied  to  madness  in 
any  one.  Was  Faria  deceived  as  to  his  treasure,  or  was  all 
the  world  deceived  as  to  Faria? 

Dantes  remained  in  his  cell  all  day,  not  daring  to  return 
to  his  friend,  thinking  thus  to  defer  the  moment  when  he 
should  acquire  the  certainty  that  the  abbe1  was  mad — such  a 
conviction  would  be  so  terrible! 

But  toward  the  evening,  after  the  usual  visitation,  Faria, 
not  seeing  the  young  man  appear,  tried  to  move,  and  got 
over  the  distance  which  separated  them.  Edmond  shud- 
dered when  he  heard  the  painful  efforts  which  the  old 
man  made  to  drag  himself  along;  his  leg  was  inert,  and  he 
could  no  longer  make  use  of  one  arm.  Edmond  was  com' 
pelled  to  draw  him  toward  himself,  for  otherwise  he  could 
not  enter  by  the  small  aperture  which  led  to  Dantes '  chamber. 

"  Here  I  am,  pursuing  you  remorselessly,"  he  said,  with 
a  benignant  smile.  "  You  thought  to  escape  my  munifi- 
cence, but  it  was-in  vain.  Listen  to  me." 

Edmond  saw  there  was  no  escape,  and,  placing  the  old 
man  on  his  bed,  he  seated  himself  on  the  stool  beside  him. 

"You  know,"  said  the  abbe,  "that  I  was  the  secretary 
and  intimate  friend  of  Cardinal  Spada,  the  last  of  the 
princes  of  that  name.  I  owe  to  this  worthy  lord  all  the 
happiness  I  ever  knew.  He  was  not  rich,  although  the 
wealth  of  his  family  had  passed  into  a  proverb,  and  I  heard 
the  phrase  very  often,  'As  rich  as  a  Spada/  But  he,  like 
public  rumor,  lived  on  this  reputation  for  wealth;  his 
palace  was  my  paradise.  I  instructed  his  nephews,  who 
are  dead;  and  when  he  was  alone  in  the  world  I  returned 
to  him,  by  an  absolute  devotion  to  his  will,  all  he  had  done 
for  me  during  ten  years.  The  house  of  the  cardinal  had 
no  secrets  for  me.  I  had  often  seen  my  noble  patron  an- 
notating ancient  volumes,  and  eagerly  searching  among 
dusty  family  manuscripts.  One  day  when  I  was  reproach- 


THE  CO  UNT  OF  MONTE  CR18TO.  173 

ing  him  for  his  unavailing  searches  and  the  kind  of  pros- 
tration of  mind  that  followed  them,  he  looked  at  me,  and, 
smiling  bitterly,  opened  a  volume  relating  to  the  history  of 
the  city  of  Rome.  There,  in  the  twenty-ninth  chapter  of 
the  'Life  of  Pope  Alexander  VI,'  were  the  following  lines, 
which  I  can  never  forget: 

"  '  The  great  wars  of  Eomagna  had  ended;  Cassar  Bor- 
gia, who  had  completed  his  conquest,  had  need  of  money 
to  purchase  all  Italy.  The  pope  had  also  need  of  money  to 
conclude  with  Louis,  the  twelfth  king  of  France,  formid- 
able still  in  spite  of  his  recent  reverses;  and  it  was  neces- 
sary, therefore,  to  have  recourse  to  some  profitable  specu- 
lation, which  was  a  matter  of  great  difficulty  in  the  im- 
poverished condition  of  exhausted  Italy.  His  holiness  had 
an  idea.  He  determined  to  make  two  cardinals.' 

"  By  choosing  two  of  the  greatest  personages  of  Rome, 
especially  rich  men — this  was  the  return  the  holy  father 
looked  for  from  his  speculation.  In  the  first  place,  he  had 
to  sell  the  great  appoinments  and  splendid  offices  which 
the  cardinals  already  held;  and  then  he  had  the  two  hats 
to  sell  besides.  There  was  a  third  view  in  the  speculation, 
which  will  appear  hereafter.  The  pope  and  Caesar  Borgia 
first  found  the  two  future  cardinals ;  they  were  Jean 
Rospigliosi,  who  held  four  of  the  highest  dignities  of  the 
holy  see;  and  Caesar  Spada,  one  of  the  noblest  and  richest 
of  the  Roman  nobility;  both  felt  the  high  honor  of  such 
a  favor  from  the  pope.  They  were  ambitious;  and  these 
found,  Caesar  Borgia  soon  found  purchasers  for  their  ap- 
pointments. The  result  was,  Rospigliosi  and  Spada  paid 
for  being  cardinals,  and  eight  other  persons  paid  for  the 
offices  the  cardinals  held  before  their  elevation,  and  thus 
800,000  crowns  entered  into  the  coffers  of  the  speculators. 

"  It  is  now  time  to  proceed  to  the  last  part  of  the  spec- 
ulation. The  pope,  having  almost  smothered  Rospigliosi 
and  Spada  with  caresses,  having  bestowed  upon  them  the 
insignia  of  cardinal  and  induced  them  to  realize  their 
fortunes  and  fixed  themselves  at  Rome,  the  pope  and 
Caesar  Borgia  invited  the  two  cardinals  to  dinner.  This 
was  a  matter  of  contest  between  the  holy  father  and  his 
son.  Caesar  thought  they  could  make  use  of  one  of  the 
means  which  he  always  had  ready  for  his  friends;  that  is 
to  say,  in  the  first  place,  the  famous  key  with  which  they 
requested  certain  persons  to  go  and  open  a  particular  cup- 


174  THE  CO  UNT  OF  MONTE  GRISTO. 

board.  This  key  was  furnished  with  a  small  iron  point — 
a  negligence  on  the  part  of  the  locksmith.  When  this  was 
pressed  to  effect  the  opening  of  the  cupboard,  of  which 
the  lock  was  difficult,  the  person  was  pricked  by  this  small 
point  and  died  next  day.  Then  there  was  the  ring  with 
the  lion's  head,  which  Cgesar  wore  when  he  meant  to  give 
certain  squeezes  of  the  hand.  The  lion  bit  the  hand 
thus  favored,  and  at  the  end  of  twenty-four  hours  the  bite 
was  mortal.  Caesar  then  proposed  to  his  father  either  to 
ask  the  cardinals  to  open  the  cupboard,  or  to  give  each  a 
cordial  squeeze  of  the  hand;  but  Alexander  VI  replied  to 
him:  '  While  we  are  thinking  of  those  worthy  cardinals, 
Spada  and  Rospigliosi,  let  us  ask  both  of  them  to  a  dinner. 
Something  tells  me  that  we  shall  regain  this  money.  Besides, 
you  forget,  Caesar,  an  indigestion  declares  itself  immedi- 
ately, while  a  prick  or  a  bite  occasions  a  day  or  two's  delay/ 
Caesar  gave  way  before  such  cogent  reasoning  and  the  car- 
dinals were  consequently  invited  to  dinner. 

"  The  table  was  laid  in  a  vineyard  belonging  to  the 
pope,  near  Saint-Pierre-£s-Liens,  a  charming  retreat  which 
the  cardinals  knew  very  well  by  report.  Rospigliosi,  quite 
giddy  with  his  dignity,  prepared  his  stomach,  and  assumed 
his  best  looks.  Spada,  a  prudent  man,  and  greatly  at- 
tached to  his  only  nephew,  a  young  captain  of  highest 
promise,  took  paper  and  pen  and  made  his  will.  He  then 
sent  to  his  nephew  to  await  him  in  the  vicinity  of  the 
vineyard;  but  it  appeared  the  servant  did  not  find  him. 

"  Spada  knew  the  nature  of  these  invitations;  since 
Christianity,  so  eminently  civilizing,  had  made  progress  in 
Kome,  it  was  no  longer  a  centurian  who  came  from  the 
tyrant  with  a  message,  '  Caesar  wills  that  you  die,'  but  it 
was  a  legate  a  latere,  who  came  with  a  smile  on  his  lips  to 
Bay  from  the  pope,  '  His  holiness  requests  that  you  will 
dine  with  him.' 

"Spada  set  out  about  2  o'clock  to  Sain t-Pierre-es-Li ens. 
The  pope  awaited  him.  The  first  figure  that  struck  the 
eyes  of  Spada  was  that  of  his  nephew,  in  full  costume,  and 
Caesar  Borgia  paying  him  most  marked  attentions.  Spada 
turned  pale,  as  Caesar  looked  at  him  with  an  ironical  air, 
which  proved  that  he  had  anticipated  all,  and  that  the 
snare  was  well  spread.  They  began  dinner,  and  Spada 
was  only  able  to  inquire  of  his  nephew  if  he  had  received 
his  message.  The  nephew  replied  no;  perfectly  compre- 


1HE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRI8TO.  175 

hending  the  meaning  of  the  question.  It  was  too  late,  for 
he  had  already  drank  a  glass  of  excellent  wine,  placed  for 
him  expressly  by  the  pope's  butler.  Spada  at  the  same 
moment  saw  another  bottle  approach  him,  which  he  was 
pressed  to  taste.  An  hour  afterward  a  physician  declared 
they  were  both  poisoned  through  eating  mushrooms. 
Spada  died  on  the  threshold  of  the  vineyard;  the  nephew 
expired  at  his  own  door,  making  signs  which  his  wife 
could  not  comprehend. 

"  Then  Csesar  and  the  pope  hastened  to  lay  hands  on 
the  heritage,  under  pretense  of  seeking  for  the  papers  of 
the  dead  man.  But  the  inheritence  consisted  in  this  only, 
a  scrap  of  paper  on  which  Spada  had  written:  'I  bequeath 
to  my  beloved  nephew  my  coffers,  my  books,  and,  among 
other,  my  breviary  and  the  gold  corners,  which  I  beg  he 
will  preserve  in  remembrance  of  his  affectionate  uncle. ' 

"  The  heirs  sought  everywhere,  admired  the  breviary, 
laid  hands  on  the  furniture,  and  were  greatly  astonished 
that  Spada,  the  rich  man,  was  really  the  most  miserable  of 
uncles — no  treasures — unless  they  were  those  of  science, 
composed  in  the  library  and  laboratories.  This  was  all; 
Caesar  and  his  father  searched,  examined,  scrutinized,  but 
found  nothing,  or  at  least  very  little;  not  exceeding  a  few 
thousand  crowns  in  plate,  and  about  the  same  in  ready 
money;  but  the  nephew  had  time  to  say  to  his  wife  before 
he  expired:  'Look  well  among  my  uncle's  papers;  there  is 
a  will.' 

"  They  sought  even  more  thoroughly  than  the  august 
heirs  had  done,  but  it  was  fruitless.  There  were  two 
palaces  and  a  vineyard  behind  the  Palatine  Hill;  but  iu 
these  days  landed  property  had  not  much  value,  and  the 
two  palaces  and  the  vineyard  remained  to  the  family  as  be- 
neath the  rapacity  of  the  pope  and  his  son.  Months  and 
years  rolled  on.  Alexander  VI  died  poisoned — you  know 
by  what  mistake.  Caesar,  poisoned  at  the  same  time, 
escaped  with  coloring  his  skin  like  a  snake,  and  assumed  a 
new  cuticle,  on  which  the  poison  left  spots,  like  those  we 
see  on  the  skin  of  a  tiger;  then,  compelled  to  quit  Rome, 
he  -vent  and  killed  himself  in  obscurity  in  a  night  skir- 
mish, scarcely  noticed  in  history.  After  the  pope's  death 
and  his  son's  exile,  it  was  supposed  the  Spada  family  would 
again  make  the  splendid  figure  they  had  before  the  cardi- 
nal's time;  but  this  was  not  the  case.  The  Spadas  re- 


176  THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRI8TO. 

mained  in  doubtful  ease,  a  mystery  hung  over  this  dark 
affair,  and  the  public  rumor  was,  that  Caesar,  a  better  poli- 
tician than  his  father,  had  carried  off  from  the  pope  the 
fortune  of  the  two  cardinals.  I  say  the  two,  because  Car- 
dinal Rospigliosi,  who  had  not  taken  any  precaution,  was 
completely  despoiled. 

"  Up  to  this  time/'  said  Faria,  interrupting  the  thread 
of  his  narrative,  "  this  seems  to  you  very  ridiculous,  no 
doubt,  eh?" 

"  Oh,  my  friend,"  cried  Dant£s,  "on  the  contrary,  it 
seems  as  if  I  were  reading  a  most  interesting  narrative; 
go  on,  I  pray  of  you." 

1  ( I  will.  The  family  began  to  feel  accustomed  to  this  obscur- 
ity. Years  rolled  on,  and  among  the  descendants  some  were 
soldiers,  others  diplomatists;  some  churchmen,  some  bank- 
ers; some  grew  rich,  and  some  were  ruined.  I  come  now 
to  the  last  of  the  family,  whose  secretary  I  was — the 
Comte  de  Spada.  I  had  often  heard  him  complain  of  the 
disproportion  of  his  rank  with  his  fortune;  and  I  advised 
him  to  sink  all  he  had  in  an  annuity.  He  did  so  and  thus 
doubled  his  income.  The  celebrated  breviary  remained  in 
the  family  and  was  in  the  comte's  possession.  It  had 
been  handed  down  from  father  to  son;  for  the  singular 
clause  of  the  only  will  that  had  been  found  had  rendered 
it  a  real  relique,  preserved  in  the  family  with  superstitious 
veneration.  It  was  an  illuminated  book,  with  beautiful 
gothic  characters,  and  so  weighty  with  gold  that  a  serv- 
ant always  carried  it  before  the  cardinal  on  days  of  great 
solemnity. 

"  At  the  sight  of  papers  of  all  sorts — titles,  contracts, 
parchments,  which  were  kept  in  the  archives  of  the  fam- 
ily, all  descending  from  the  poisoned  cardinal,  I,  like 
twenty  servitors,  stewards,  secretaries  before  me,  in  my 
turn  examined  the  immense  bundles  of  documents;  but,  in 
spite  of  the  most  accurate  researches,  I  found — nothing. 
Yet  I  had  read,  I  had  even  written  a  precise  history  of  the 
Borgia  family,  for  the  sole  purpose  of  assuring  myself 
whether  any  increase  of  fortune  had  occurred  to  them  on 
the  death  of  the  Cardinal  Caesar  Spada;  but  could  only 
trace  the  acquisition  of  the  property  of  the  Cardinal  Eos- 
pigliosi,  his  companion  in  misfortune. 

"  I  was  then  almost  assured  that  the  inheritance  had 
neither  profited  the  Borgias  nor  the  family,  but  had  re- 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRI8TO.  177 

mained  unpossessed  like  the  treasures  of  "The  Arabian 
Nights/*  which  slept  in  the  bosom  of  the  earth  under  the 
eyes  of  a  genie.  I  searched,  ransacked,  counted,  calcu- 
lated a  thousand  and  a  thousand  times  the  income  and  ex- 
penditure of  the  family  for  three  hundred  years.  It  was 
useless.  I  remained  in  my  ignorance,  and  the  Comte  de 
Spada  in  his  poverty.  My  patron  died.  He  had  re- 
served from  his  annuity  his  family  papers,  his  library, 
composed  of  5,000  volumes,  and  his  famous  bre- 
viary. All  these  he  bequeathed  to  me,  with  1,000 
Roman  crowns,  which  he  had  in  ready  money,  on  condi- 
tion that  I  would  have  said  anniversary  masses  for  the  re- 
pose of  his  soul,  and  that  I  would  draw  up  a  genealogical 
tree  and  history  of  his  house.  All  this  I  did  scrupulously. 
Be  easy,  my  dear  Edmond,  we  are  near  the  conclusion. 

"  In  1807,  a  month  before  I  was  arrested  and  fifteen 
days  after  the  death  of  Comte  de  Spada,  on  the  25th  of 
December  (you  will  see  presently  how  the  date  became 
fixed  in  my  memory),  I  was  reading,  for  the  thousandth 
time,  the  papers  I  was  arranging,  for  the  palace  was  sold 
to  a  stranger,  and  I  was  going  to  leave  Eome  and  settle  at 
Florence,  intending  to  take  with  me  12,000  francs  I  pos- 
sessed, my  library,  and  famous  breviary,  when,  tired  with 
my  constant  labor  at  the  same  thing,  and  overcome  by  a 
heavy  dinner  I  had  eaten,  my  head  dropped  on  my  hands, 
and  I  fell  asleep  about  3  o'clock  in  the  atternoon.  I 
awoke  as  the  clock  was  striking  6.  I  raised  my  head; 
all  was  in  darkness.  I  rang  for  a  light,  but  as  no  one 
came  I  determined  to  find  one  for  myself.  It  was  indeed 
the  habit  of  a  philosopher  which  I  should  soon  be  under  the 
necessity  of  adopting.  I  took  a  wax  candle  in  one  hand, 
and  with  the  other  groped  about  for  a  piece  of  paper  (my 
match-box  being  empty),  with  which  I  proposed  to  pro- 
duce a  light  from  the  small  flame  still  playing  on  the  em- 
bers. Fearing,  however,  to  make  use  of  any  valuable 
piece  of  paper,  I  hesitated  for  a  moment,  then  recollected 
that  I  had  seen  in  the  famous  breviary,  which  was  on  the 
table  beside  me,  an  old  paper  quite  yellow  with  age,  and 
which  had  served  as  a  marker  for  centuries,  kept  there  by 
request  of  the  heirs.  I  felt  for  it,  found  it,  twisted  it  up 
together,  and,  putting  it  into  the  expiring  flame,  set  light 
to  it. 

"  But  beneath  my  fingers,  as  if  by  magic,  in  proportion 


178  THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO. 

as  the  fire  ascended,  I  saw  yellowish  characters  appear  on 
the  paper.  I  grasped  it  in  my  hand,  put  out  the  flames  as 
quickly  as  I  could,  lighted  my  taper  in  the  fire  itself,  and 
opened  the  crumpled  paper  with  inexpressible  emotion, 
recognizing,  when  I  had  done  so,  that  these  characters  had 
been  traced  in  mysterious  and  sympathetic  ink,  only  ap- 
pearing when  exposed  to  the  fire;  nearly  one-third  of  the 
paper  had  been  consumed  by  the  flame.  It  was  that  paper 
you  read  this  morning;  read  it  again,  Dantes,  and  then  I 
will  complete  for  you  the  incomplete  words  and  uncon- 
nected sense." 

Faria,  with  an  air  of  triumph,  offered  the  paper  to 
Dante's,  who  this  time  read  the  following  words,  traced 
with  an  ink  of  a  color  which  most  nearly  resembled  rust: 

"  This  25th  day  of  April,  1498,  be  ... 
Alexander  VI,  and  fearing  that  not  .  .  . 
he  may  desire  to  become  my  heir,  and  re  .  .  0 
and  Bentivoglio,  who  were  poisoned  .  .  . 
my  sole  heir,  that  I  have  bu  .  .  . 
and  has  visited  with  me,  that  is  in  ... 
island  of  Monte  Cristo  all  I  poss  .  .  . 
jewels,  diamonds,  gems  that  I  alone  .  .  . 
may  amount  to  nearly  two  mil  .  .  . 
will  find  on  raising  the  twentieth  ro  .  .  . 
creek  to  the  east  in  a  right  line.     Two  open  .  .  . 
in  these  caves;  the  treasure  is  in  the  farthest  a  .  .  0 
which  treasure  I  bequeath  and  leave  en  ... 
as  my  sole  heir. 

"25th  April,  1498.  CUs  .  .  .  " 

"  And  now,"  said  the  abbe,  "  read  this  other  paper;" 
and  he  presented  to  Dante's  a  second  leaf  with  fragments 
of  lines  written  on  it,  which  Edmond  read  as  follows: 

"...  ing  invited  to  dine  by  his  holiness 

.  .  .  content  with  making  me  pay  for  iny  hat 

.  .  .  serves  for  me  the  fate  of  Cardinals  Caprara 

...  I  declare  to  my  nephew,  Guido  Spada 

.  .  .  ried  in  a  place  he  knows 

...   the  caves  of  the  small 

.  .  .  essed  of  ingots,  gold,  money 

o  .  .  know  of  the  existence  of  this  treasure,  which. 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRI8TO.  179 

.  .  .  lions  of  Roman  crowns,  and  which  he 

.   .  .  ck  from  the  small 

.  .  .  ings  have  been  made 

.  .  .  ngle  in  the  second; 

.  .  .  tire  to  him 

.  .  .  AB  f  SPADA." 

Faria  followed  him  with  excited  looks. 

"  And,  now,"  he  said,  when  he  saw  Dantes  had  read  the 
last  line,  "  put  the  two  fragments  together,  and  judge  for 
yourself. 

Dantes  obeyed,  and  the  conjoined  pieces  gave  the 
following: 

"This  25th  day  of  April,  1498,  be — ing  invited  to  dine 
by  his  Holiness  Alexander  VI,  and  fearing  that  not—con- 
tent with  making  me  pay  for  my  hat,  he  may  desire  to 
become  my  heir,  and  re — serves  for  me  the  fate  of  Car- 
dinals Caprara  and  Bentivoglio,  who  were  poisoned — I  de- 
clare to  my  nephew,  Guido  Spada,  my  sole  heir,  that  I 
have  bu — ried  in  a  place  he  knows  and  has  visited  with  me 
— that  is  in — the  caves  of  the  small  island  of  Monte  Cristo, 
all  I  poss — essed  of  ingots,  gold,  money,  jewels,  diamonds, 
gems;  that  I  alone — know  of  the  existence  of  this  treasure, 
which  may  amount  to  nearly  two  mil — lions  of  Roman 
crowns,  and  which  he  will  find  on  raising  the  twentieth 
ro — ck  from  the  small  creek  to  the  east  in  a  right  line. 
Two  open — ings  have  been  made  in  these  caves;  the 
treasure  is  in  the  farthest  a — ngle  in  the  second;  which 
treasure  I  bequeath  and  leave  en — tire  to  him  as  my  sole 
heir. 

"25th  April,  1498.  CJES— AB  f  SPADA." 

Well,  do  you  comprehend  now?"  inquired  Faria. 
'  It  is  the  declaration  of  Cardinal  Spada,  and  the  will 
long  sought  for,"  replied  Edmond,  still  incredulous. 

Of  course;  what  else  could  it  be?" 

And  who  completed  it  as  it  now  is?" 

I  did.  Aided  by  the  remaining  fragment,  I  guessed 
the  rest;  measuring  the  length  of  the  lines  by  those  of  the 
paper,  and  divining  the  hidden  meaning  by  means  of  what 
WHS  in  part  revealed,  as  we  are  guided  in  a  cavern  by  the 
small  ray  of  light  above  us." 


180  THE  COUNT  Of  MONTE  CRlSTO. 

"  And  what  did  you  do  when  you  arrived  at  this  con- 
clusion ?" 

"  I  resolved  to  set  out,  and  did  set  out  that  very  instant, 
carrying  with  me  the  beginning  of  my  great  work  of  form- 
ing Italy  into  one  kingdom;  but  for  some  time  the  infernal 
police  (who  at  this  period,  quite  contrary  to  what  Napoleon 
desired  so  soon  as  he  had  a  son  born  to  him,  wished  for  a 
partition  of  provinces)  had  their  eyes  on  me,  and  my  hasty 
departure,  the  cause  of  which  they  were  unable  to  guess, 
having  aroused  their  suspicions,  I  was  arrested  at  the  very 
moment  I  was  leaving  Piombino.  Now,"  continued  Faria, 
addressing  Dante's  with  an  almost  paternal  expression, 
"  now,  my  dear  fellow,  you  know  as  much  as  I  do  myself. 
If  we  ever  escape  together,  half  this  treasure  is  yours;  if  I 
die  here,  and  you  escape  alone,  the  whole  belongs  to  you." 

"  But,"  inquired  Dantes,  hesitating,  "  has  this  treasure 
no  more  legitimate  possessor  in  this  world  than  ourselves?" 

"  No,  no,  be  easy  on  that  score;  the  family  is  extinct. 
The  last  Comte  de  Spada,  moreover,  made  me  his  heir;  be- 
queathing to  me  this  symbolic  breviary,  he  bequeathed  to 
me  all  it  contained;  no,  no,  make  your  mind  satisfied  on 
that  point.  If  we  lay  hands  on  this  fortune  we  may  enjoy 
it  without  remorse." " 

"  And  you  say  this  treasure  amounts  to " 

"  Two  millions  of  Roman  crowns;  nearly  13,000,000 
of  our  money." 

"Impossible!"  said  Dantes,  staggered  at  the  enormous 
amount. 

"Impossible!  and  why?"  asked  the  old  man.  "The 
Spada  family  was  one  of  the  oldest  and  most  powerful 
families  of  the  fifteenth  century;  and  in  these  times,  when 
all  speculation  and  occupation  were  wanting,  those  accumu- 
lations of  gold  and  jewels  were  by  no  means  rare;  there  are 
at  this  day  Roman  families  perishing  of  hunger,  though 
possessed  of  nearly  a  million  in  diamonds  and  jewels, 
handed  down  as  heirlooms,  and  which  they  cannot  touch." 

Edmond  thought  he  was  in  a  dream — he  wavered  be- 
tween incredulity  and  joy. 

"  I  have  only  kept  this  secret  so  long  from  you,"  con- 
tinued Faria,  "  that  I  might  prove  you,  and  then  surprise 
you.  Had  we  escaped  before  my  attack  of  catalepsy,  I 
should  have  conducted  you  to  Monte  Cristo ;  now,"  he 
added,  with  a  sigh,  "  it  is  you  who  will  conduct  me  thither. 
Well !  Dantes.  you  do  not  thank  me?" 


THE  00  UNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO.  181 

"  This  treasure  belongs  to  you,  my  dear  friend/'  replied 
Dant&s,  "  and  to  you  only.  I  have  no  right  to  it.  I  am 
no  relation  of  yours." 

"  You  are  my  son,  Dante's,"  exclaimed  the  old  man. 
"  You  are  the  child  of  my  captivity.  My  confession  con- 
demns me  to  celibacy.  God  has  sent  you  to  me  to  console, 
at  one  and  the  same  time,  the  man  who  could  not  be  a 
father  and  the  prisoner  who  could  not  get  free."  And 
Faria  extended  the  arm  of  which  alone  the  use  remained  to 
him  to  the  young  man,  who  threw  himself  around  his  neck 
and  wept  bitterly. 


CHAPTER  XIX. 

THE     THIRD     ATTACK. 

Now  that  this  treasure,  which  had  so  long  been  the 
object  of  the  abbe's  meditations,  could  insure  the  future 
happiness  of  him  whom  Faria  really  loved  as  a  son,  it  had 
doubled  its  value  in  his  eyes,  and  every  day  he  expatiated 
on  the  amount,  explaining  to  Dante's  all  the  good  which, 
with  13,000,000  or  14,000,000  francs,  a  man  could  do  in 
these  days  to  his  friends ;  and  then  Dante's'  countenance 
became  gloomy,  for  the  oath  of  vengeance  he  had  taken 
recurred  to  his  memory,  and  he  reflected  how  much  ill,  in 
these  times,  a  man  with  13,000,000  or  14,000,000  francs 
could  do  to  his  enemies. 

The  abb6  did  not  know  the  Isle  of  Monte  Cristo ;  but 
Dantes  knew  it  and  had  often  passed  it,  situated  twenty-five 
miles  from  Pianosa,  between  Corsica  and  the  Isle  of  Elba, 
and  had  once  touched  at  it.  This  island  was,  always  had 
been,  and  still  is,  completely  deserted.  It  is  a  rock  of 
almost  conical  form,  which  seems  as  though  produced  by 
gome  volcanic  effort  from  the  depth  to  the  surface  of  the 
ocean.  Dantes  traced  a  plan  of  the  island  to  Faria,  and 
Faria  gave  Dantes  advice  as  to  the  means  he  should  employ 
to  recover  the  treasure.  But  Dante's  was  far  from  being  as 
enthusiastic  and  confident  as  the  old  man.  It  was  past  a 
question  now  that  Faria  was  not  a  lunatic,  and  the  way  in 
which  he  had  achieved  the  discovery,  which  had  given  rise 
to  the  suspicion  of  his  madness,  increased  his  admiration 
of  him ;  but  at  the  same  time  he  could  not  believe  that 


182  THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRI8TO. 

that  deposit,  supposing  it  had  ever  existed,  still  existed ; 
and,  though  he  considered  the  treasure  as  by  no  means 
chimerical,  he  yet  believed  it  was  no  longer  there. 

However,  as  if  fate  resolved  on  depriving  the  prisoners 
of  their  last  chance  and  making  them  understand  that 
they  were  condemned  to  perpetual  imprisonment,  a  new 
misfortune  befell  them  ;  the  gallery  on  the  sea  side,  which 
had  long  been  in  ruins,  was  rebuilt.  They  had  repaired  it 
completely,  and  stopped  up  with  vast  masses  of  stone  the 
hole  Dantes  had  filled  in.  But  for  this  precaution,  which, 
it  will  be  remembered,  the  abbe  had  made  to  Edmond,  the 
misfortune  would  have  been  still  greater,  for  their  attempt 
to  escape  would  have  been  detected  and  they  would,  un- 
fortunately, have  been  separated.  Thus  a  fresh  and  even 
stronger  door  was  closed  upon  them. 

"  You  see,"  said  the  young  man,  with  an  air  of  sorrow- 
ful resignation,  to  Faria,  "that  God  deems  it  right  to  take 
from  me  even  what  you  call  my  devotion  to  you.  I  have 
promised  to  remain  forever  with  you,  and  now  I  could  not 
break  my  promise  if  I  would.  I  shall  no  more  have  the 
treasure  than  you,  and  neither  of  us  will  quit  this  prison. 
But  my  real  treasure  is  not  that,  my  dear  friend,  which 
awaits  me  beneath  the  somber  rocks  of  Monte  Cristo,  but 
it  is  your  presence,  our  living  together  five  or  six  hours  a 
day,  in  spite  of  our  jailers  ;  it  is  those  rays  of  intelligence 
you  have  elicited  from  my  brain,  the  languages  you  have 
implanted  in  my  memory,  and  which  spring  there"  with  all 
their  philological  ramifications.  These  different  sciences 
that  you  have  made  so  easy  to  me  by  the  depth  of  the 
knowledge  you  possess  of  them,  and  the  clearness  of  the 
principles  to  which  you  have  reduced  them — this  is  my 
treasure,  my  beloved  friend,  and  with  this  you  have  made 
me  rich  and  happy.  Believe  me,  and  take  comfort,  this  is 
Better  for  me  than  tons  of  gold  and  cases  of  diamonds, 
even  were  they  not  as  problematical  as  the  clouds  we  see  in 
the  morning  floating  over  the  sea,  which  we  take  for  terra 
firma,  and  which  evaporate  and  vanish  as  we  draw  near  to 
them.  To  have  you  as  long  as  possible  near  me,  to  hear 
your  eloquent  voice,  which  I  trust  embellishes  my  mind, 
strengthens  my  soul,  and  makes  my  whole  frame  capable 
of  great  and  terrible  things,  if  I  should  ever  be  free,  so 
fills  my  whole  existence  that  the  despair  to  which  I  was 
just  on  the  point  of  yielding  when  I  knew  you,  has  no 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CR1STO.  183 

longer  any  hold  over  me  ;  and  this — this  is  my  fortune — 
not  chimerical,  but  actual.  I  owe  you  my  real  good,  my 
present  happiness ;  and  all  the  sovereigns  of  the  earth, 
were  they  Csesar  Borgia's,  could  not  deprive  me  of  this." 

Thus,  if  not  actually  happy,  yet  the  days  these  two  un- 
fortunates passed  together  went  quickly.  Faria,  who  for 
so  long  a  time  had  kept  silence  as  to  the  treasure,  now 
perpetually  talked  of  it.  As  he  had  said,  he  remained 
paralyzed  in  the  right  arm  and  the  left  leg,  and  had  given 
up  all  hope  of  ever  enjoying  it  himself.  But  he  was  con- 
tinually thinking  over  some  means  of  escape  for  his  young 
companion,  and  he  enjoyed  it  for  him.  For  fear  the  letter 
might  be  some  day  lost  or  abstracted,  he  compelled  Dantes 
to  learn  it  by  heart ;  and  he  thus  knew  it  from  one  end  to 
the  other.  Then  he  destroyed  the  second  portion,  assured 
that  if  the  first  were  seized  no  one  would  be  able  to  pene- 
trate its  real  meaning.  Whole  hours  sometimes  passed 
while  Faria  was  giving  instructions  to  Dantes — instructions 
which  were  to  serve  him  when  he  was  at  liberty.  Then, 
once  free,  from  the  day  and  hour  and  moment  when  he 
was  so,  he  could  have  but  one  only  thought,  which  was,  to 
gain  Monte  Cristo  by  some  means,  and  remain  there  alone 
under  some  pretext  which  would  give  no  suspicions  ;  and, 
once  there,  to  endeavor  to  find  the  wonderful  caverns  and 
search  in  the  appointed  spot.  The  appointed  spot,  be  it 
remembered,  being  the  farthest  angle  in  the  second 
opening. 

In  the  meanwhile  the  hours  passed,  if  not  rapidly,  at 
least  tolerably.  Faria,  as  we  have  said,  without  having 
recovered  the  use  of  his  hand  and  foot,  had  resumed  all  the 
clearness  of  his  understanding;  and  had  gradually,  besides 
the  moral  instructions  we  have  detailed,  taught  his  youth- 
ful  companion  the  patient  and  sublime  duty  of  a  prisoner, 
who  learns  to  make  something  from  nothing.  They  were 
thus  perpetually  employed.  Faria,  that  he  might  not  see 
himself  grow  old  :  Dantes,  for  fear  of  recalling  the  almost 
extinct  past  which  now  only  floated  in  his  memory  like  a 
distant  light  wandering  in  the  night.  All  went  on  as  if  in 
existences  in  which  misfortune  has  deranged  nothing,  and 
which  glide  on  mechanically  and  tranquilly  beneath  the 
eye  of  Providence. 

But  beneath  this  superifical  calm  there  were  in  the  heart 
of  the  young  man,  and  perhaps  in  that  of  the  old  man, 


184  TEE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRI8TO. 

many  repressed  desires,  many  stifled  sighs,  which  found 
vent  when  Faria  was  alone  and  when  Edmond  returned 
to  his  cell.  One  night  Edmond  awoke  suddenly,  believing 
he  heard  some  one  calling  him.  He  opened  his  eyes  and 
tried  to  pierce  through  the  gloom.  His  name,  or  rather  a 
plaintive  voice,  which  essayed  to  pronounce  his  name, 
reached  him. 

"  Alas  I"  murmured  Edmond,  "  can  it  be?" 

He  moved  his  bed,  drew  up  the  stone,  rushed  into  the 
passage,  and  reached  the  opposite  extremity;  the  secret 
entrance  was  open.  By  the  light  of  the  wretched  and 
wavering  lamp,  of  which  we  have  spoken,  Dantes  saw  the 
old  man,  pale,  but  yet  erect,  clinging  to  the  bedstead. 
His  features  were  writhing  with  those  horrible  symptoms 
which  he  already  knew,  and  which  had  so  seriously  alarmed 
him  when  he  saw  them  for  the  first  time. 

"Alas  !  my  dear  friend,"  said  Faria  in  a  resigned  tone, 
"  you  understand,  do  you  not;  and  I  need  not  attempt  to 
explain  to  you  ?" 

Edmond  uttered  a  cry  of  agony,  and,  quite  out  of  his 
senses,  rushed  toward  the  door,  exclaiming:  "Help!  help!" 

Faria  had  just  sufficient  strength  to  retain  him. 

"  Silence  !"  he  said,  "  or  you  are  lost.  Think  now  of 
yourself;  only,  my  dear  friend,  act  so  as  to  render  your 
captivity  supportable  or  your  flight  possible.  It  would 
require  years  to  renew  only  what  I  have  done  here,  and 
which  would  be  instantly  destroyed  if  our  jailers  knew  we 
had  communicated  with  each  other.  Besides,  be  assured, 
my  dear  Edmoud,  the  dungeon  I  am  about  to  leave  will 
not  long  remain  empty;  some  other  unfortunate  being  will 
soon  take  my  place,  and  to  him  you  will  appear  like  an 
angel  of  salvation.  Perhaps  he  will  be  young,  strong  and 
enduring,  like  yourself,  and  will  aid  you  in  your  escape; 
while  I  have  been  but  a  hinderance.  You  will  no  longer 
have  half  a  dead  body  tied  to  you  to  paralyze  all  your 
movements.  At  length  Providence  has  done  something 
for  you;  he  restores  to  you  more  than  he  takes  away,  and 
it  was  time  I  should  die." 

Edmond  could  only  clasp  his  hands  and  exclaim:  "Oh, 
my  friend  !  my  friend!  speak  not  thus  !"  and  then,  resum- 
ing all  his  presence  of  mind,  which  had  for  a  moment 
staggered  under  this  blow,  and  his  strength,  which  had 
failed  at  the  words  of  the  old  man,  he  said:  "  Oh  !  I  have 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRI8TO.  185 

saved  you  once  and  I  will  save  you  a  second  time  !"  And, 
raising  the  foot  of  the  bed  he  drew  out  the  phial,  still  a 
third  filled  with  the  red  liquor. 

"  See  !"  he  exclaimed,  "there  remains  still  some  of  this 
saving  draught.  Quick,  quick!  tell  me  what  I  must  do 
this  time — are  there  any  fresh  instruction?  Speak,  my 
friend,  I  listen. " 

"  There  is  not  a  hope/'  replied  Faria,  shaking  his  head; 
"  but  no  matter,  God  wills  it  that  man  whom  He  has 
created,  and  in  whose  heart  He  has  profoundly  rooted  the 
love  of  life,  should  do  all  in  his  power  to  preserve  that 
existence,  which,  however,  painful  it  may  be,  is  yet  always 
so  dear." 

"  Oh!  yes,  yes!"  exclaimed  Daut£s,  "and  I  tell  you,  you 
shall  yet  be  saved  1" 

"  Well,  then,  try.  The  cold  gains  upon  me.  I  feel  the 
blood  flowing  toward  my  brain.  This  horrible  trembling, 
which  makes  my  teeth  chatter,  and  seems  to  dislocate  my 
bones,  begins  to  pervade  my  whole  frame;  in  five  minutes 
the  malady  will  reach  its  height,  and  in  a  quarter  of  an 
hour  there  will  be  nothing  left  of  me  but  a  dead  corpse." 

"  Oh!"  exclaimed  Dante's,  his  heart  wrung  with  anguish. 

"  Do  as  you  did  before,  only  do  not  wait  so  long.  All 
the  springs  of  life  are  now  exhausted  in  me,  and  death," 
he  continued,  looking  at  his  paralyzed  arm  and  leg,  "has 
but  half  its  work  to  do.  If,  after  having  made  me  swallow 
twelve  drops  instead  of  ten,  you  see  that  I  not  recover, 
then  pour  the  rest  down  my  throat.  Now  lift  me  on  my 
bed,  for  I  can  no  longer  support  myself." 

Edmond  took  the  old  man  in  his  arms  and  laid  him  on 
the  bed. 

"  And  now,  my  dear  friend,"  said  Faria,  "  sole  con- 
solation of  my  wretched  existence — you  whom  heaven  gave 
me  somewhat  late,  but  still  gave  me  a  priceless  gift,  and 
for  which  I  am  most  grateful,  at  the  moment  of  separating 
from  you  forever,  I  wish  you  all  the  happiness  and  all  the 
prosperity  you  so  well  deserve.  My  son,  I  bless  thee  !" 

The  young  man  cast  himself  on  his  knees,  leaning  his 
head  against  the  old  man's  bed. 

"Listen,  now,  to  what  I  say  in  this  dying  moment.  The 
treasure  of  the  Spadas  exists.  God  grants  me*  that  there 
no  longer  exists  for  me  distance  or  obstacle.  I  see  it  in 
the  depths  of  the  inner  cavern.  My  eyes  pierce  the  inmost 


1£6  THE  CO  UNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO. 

recesses  of  the  earth,  and  are  dazzled  at  the  sight  of  so 
much  riches.  If  you  do  escape,  remember  that  the  poor 
abbe,  whom  all  the  world  called  mad,  was  not  so.  Hasten 
to  Monte  Cristo — avail  yourself  of  the  fortune — for  you 
have,  indeed,  suffered  long  enough/' 

A  violent  shock  interrupted  the  old  man.  Dantes  raised 
his  head  and  saw  Faria's  eyes  injected  with  blood.  It 
seemed  as  if  a  flow  of  blood  had  ascended  from  the  chest 
to  the  head. 

"Adieu!  adieu!"  murmured  the  old  man,  clasping 
Edmond's  hand  convulsively;  "adieu  \" 

"  Oh,  no — no,  not  yet,"  he  cried;  "do  not  forsake  me! 
Oh  !  succur  him  !  Help  !  help  !  help  I" 

"Hush  !  hush  I"  murmured  the  dying  man,  "that  they 
may  not  separate  us  if  you  save  me  I" 

"You  are  right.  Oh,  yes,  yes  !  be  assured  I  shall  save 
you  !  Besides,  although  you  suffer  much,  you  do  not  seem 
in  such  agony  as  before." 

"  Do  not  mistake !  I  suffer  less  because  there  is  in  me 
less  strength  to  endure  it.  At  your  age  we  have  faith  in 
life;  it  is  the  privilege  of  youth  to  believe  and  hope,  but 
old  men  see  death  more  clearly.  Oh  !  'tis  here — 'tis  here — 
'tis  over — my  sight  is  gone — my  reason  escapes  !  Your 
hand,  Dantes  !  Adieu — adieu  !"  And,  raising  himself  by 
a  final  effort,  in  which  he  summoned  all  his  faculties,  he 
said  :  "  Monte  Cristo  !  forget  not  Monte  Cristo  !"  And 
he  fell  back  in  his  bed.  The  crisis  was  terrible,  his 
twisted  limbs,  his  swollen  eyelids,  a  foam  of  blood  and 
froth  in  his  lips,  a  frame  quite  rigid,  was  soon  extended 
on  this  bed  of  agony,  in  place  of  the  intellectual  being 
who  was  there  but  so  lately. 

Dante's  took  the  lamp,  placed  it  on  a  projecting  stone 
above  the  bed,  whence  its  tremulous  light  fell  with  strange 
and  fantastic  ray  on  this  discomposed  countenance  and  this 
motionless  and  stiffened  body.  With  fixed  eyes  he  awaited 
boldly  the  moment  for  administering  the  hoped-for  re- 
storative. 

When  he  believed  the  instant  had  arrived  he  took  the 
knife,  unclosed  the  teeth,  which  offered  less  resistance 
than  before,  counted  one  after  the  other  twelve  drops,  and 
watched;  the  phial  contained,  perhaps,  twice  as  much 
more.  He  waited  ten  minutes,  a  quarter  of  an  hour,  half 
an  hour,  nothing  moved.  Trembling,  his  hair  erect,  his 


THE  CO  UNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO.  187 

brow  bathed  with  perspiration,  he  counted  the  seconds  by 
the  beatings  of  his  heart.  Then  he  thought  it  was  time  to 
make  the  last  trial,  and  he  put  the  phial  to  the  violet  lips 
of  Faria,  and  without  having  occasion  to  force  open  his 
jaws,  which  had  remained  extended,  he  poured  the  whole 
of  the  liquid  down  his  throat. 

The  draught  produced  a  galvanic  effect,  a  violent  trem- 
bling pervaded  the  old  man's  limbs,  his  eyes  opened  until 
it  was  fearful  to  gaze  upon  them,  he  heaved  a  sigh  which 
resembled  a  shriek,  and  then  all  this  vibrating  frame 
returned  gradually  to  its  state  of  immobility,  only  the  eyes 
remained  open. 

Half  an  hour,  an  hour,  an  hour  and  a  half  elapsed,  and 
during  this  time  of  anguish  Edmond  leaned  over  his 
friend,  his  hand  applied  to  his  heart  and  felt  the  body 
gradually  grow  cold  and  the  heart's  pulsation  become  more 
and  more  deep  and  dull,  until  at  length  all  stopped;  the 
last  movement  of  the  heart  ceased,  the  face  became  livid, 
the  eyes  remained  open,  but  the  look  was  glazed.  It  was 
6  o'clock  in  the  morning,  the  dawn  was  just  breaking,  and 
its  weak  ray  came  into  the  dungeon  and  paled  the  in- 
effectual light  of  the  lamp.  Singular  shadows  passed  over 
the  countenance  of  the  dead  man,  which  at  times  gave  it 
the  appearance  of  life.  While  this  struggle  between  day 
and  night  lasted  Dantes  still  doubted;  but  as  soon  as  the 
daylight  gained  the  pre-eminence,  he  saw  that  he  was  alone 
with  a  corpse.  Then  an  invincible  and  extreme  terror 
seized  upon  him,  and  he  dared  not  again  press  the  hand 
that  hung  out  of  bed,  he  dared  no  longer  to  gaze  on  those 
fixed  and  vacant  eyes  which  he  had  tried  many  times  to 
close,  but  in  vain — they  opened  again  as  soon  as  shut.  He 
extinguished  the  lamp,  carefully  concealed  it,  and  then 
went  away,  closing  as  well  as  he  could  the  entrance  to  the 
secret  passage  by  the  large  stone  as  he  descended. 

It  was  time,  for  the  jailer  was  coming.  On  this  occasion 
he  began  his  rounds  at  Dantes'  cell,  and  on  leaving  him  he 
went  on  to  Faria's  dungeon,  where  he  was  taking  break- 
fast and  some  linen.  Nothing  betokened  that  the  man 
knew  anything  of  what  had  occurred.  He  went  on  his 
way. 

Dantes  was  then  seized  with  an  indescribable  desire  to 
know  what  was  going  on  in  the  dungeon  of  his  unfortunate 
friend;  he  therefore  returned  by  the  subterraneous  gallery, 


188  TEE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRT8TO. 

and  arrived  in  time  to  hear  the  exclamations  of  the  turnkey, 
who  called  out  for  help.  Other  turnkeys  came,  and  then 
was  heard  the  regular  tramp  of  soldiers  even  when  not  on 
duty — behind  them  came  the  governor. 

Edmond  heard  the  noise  of  the  bed  in  which  they  were 
moving  the  corpse,  heard  the  voice  of  the  governor,  who 
desired  them  to  throw  water  on  his  face;  and,  seeing  that, 
in  spite  of  this  application,  the  prisoner  did  not  recover, 
sent  for  the  doctor.  The  governor  then  went  out,  and 
some  words  of  pity  fell  on  Dantes'  listening  ears,  mingled 
with  brutal  laughter. 

"Well !  well !"  said  one,  "the  madman  has  gone  to  look 
after  his  treasure.  Good  journey  to  him  \" 

"  With  all  his  millions  he  will  not  have  enough  to  pay 
for  his  shroud  I"  said  another. 

"  Oh  !"  added  a  third  voice,  "  the  shrouds  of  the  Chateau 
d'lf  are  not  dear  !" 

" Perhaps/'  said  one  of  the  previous  speakers,  "as  he 
was  a  churchman,  they  may  go  to  some  expense  in  his 
behalf." 

"They  may  give  him  the  honors  of  the  sack." 

Edmond  did  not  lose  a  word,  but  comprehended  very 
little  of  what  was  said.  The  voices  soon  ceased,  and  it 
seemed  to  him  as  if  the  persons  had  all  left  the  cell.  Still 
he  dared  not  enter,  as  they  might  have  left  some  turnkey 
to  watch  the  dead.  He  remained,  therefore,  mute  and 
motionless,  restraining  even  his  respiration.  At  the  end 
of  an  hour  he  heard  a  faint  noise,  which  increased.  It  was 
the  governor  who  returned,  followed  by  the  doctor  and 
other  attendants.  There  was  a  moment's  silence — it  was 
evident  that  the  doctor  was  examining  the  dead  body. 
The  inquiries  soon  commenced. 

The  doctor  analyzed  the  symptoms  of  the  malady  under 
which  the  prisoner  had  sunk,  and  declared  he  was  dead. 
Questions  and  answers  followed  in  a  manner  that  made 
Dantes  indignant,  for  he  felt  that  all  the  world  should  ex- 
perience for  the  poor  abbe  the  love  he  bore  him. 

"I  am  very  sorry  for  what  you  tell  me,"  said  the  gov- 
ernor, replying  to  the  assurance  of  the  doctor,  "  that  the 
old  man  is  really  dead  ;  for  he  was  a  quiet,  inoffensive 
prisoner,  happy  in  his  folly,  and  required  no  watching. " 

"Ah  !"  added  the  turnkey,  "  there  was  no  occasion  for 
watching  him ;  he  would  have  staid  here  fifty  years,  Fll 
answer  for  it,  without  anv  attempt  to  escape." 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CBI8TO.  189 

"  Still,"  said  the  governor,  "  I  believe  it  will  be  requisite, 
notwithstanding  your  certainty,  and  not  that  I  doubt  your 
science,  but  for  my  own  responsibility's  sake,  that  we 
should  be  perfectly  assured  that  the  prisoner  is  dead." 

There  was  a  moment  of  complete  silence,  during  which 
Dantes,  still  listening,  felt  assured  that  the  doctor  was  ex- 
amining and  touching  the  corpse  a  second  time. 

"  You  may  make  your  mind  easy/'  said  the  doctor;  "he 
is  dead.  I  will  answer  for  that." 

"  You  know,  sir,"  said  the  governor,  persisting,  "  that 
we  are  not  content  in  such  cases  as  this  with  such  a  simple 
examination.  In  spite  of  all  appearances,  be  so  kind, 
therefore,  as  to  finish  your  duty  by  fulfilling  the  formali- 
ties prescribed  by  law." 

"  Let  the  irons  be  heated,"  said  the  doctor;  "  but  really 
it  is  a  useless  precaution." 

This  order  to  heat  the  irons  made  Dantes  shudder.  He 
heard  hasty  steps,  the  creaking  of  a  door,  people  going  and 
coming,  and  some  minutes  afterward  a  turnkey  entered, 
saying: 

"  Here  is  the  brazier  lighted." 

There  was  a  moment's  silence,  and  then  was  heard  the 
noise  made  by  burning  flesh,  of  which  the  peculiar  and 
nauseous  smell  penetrated  even  behind  the  wall  where 
Dantds  was  listening  horrified.  At  this  smell  of  human 
flesh  carbonized  the  damp  came  over  the  young  man's 
brow  and  he  felt  as  if  he  should  faint. 

"  You  see,  sir,  he  is  really  dead/'  said  the  doctor;  "  this 
burn  in  the  heel  is  decisive.  The  poor  fool  is  cured  of  his 
folly  and  delivered  of  his  captivity." 

"  Wasn't  his  name  Faria  ?"  inquired  one  of  the  officers 
who  accompanied  the  governor. 

"  Yes,  sir;  and,  as  he  said,  it  was  an  ancient  name.  He 
was,  too,  very  learned,  and  rational  enough  on  all  points 
which  did  not  relate  to  his  treasure;  but  on  that,  indeed,  he 
was  obstinate." 

"  It  is  the  sort  of  malady  which  we  call  monomania," 
said  the  doctor. 

"  You  had  never  anything  to  complain  of  ?"said  the  gov- 
ernor to  the  jailer  who  had  charge  of  the  abbe. 

"Never,  sir,"  replied  the  jailer,  "never;  on  the  con- 
trary, he  sometimes  amused  me  very  much  by  telling  me 
stories.  One  day,  too,  when  my  wife  was  ill,  he  gave  me 
a  prescription  which  cured  her. 

JH-.MAS— Vol..    I. — 9 


190  THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRI8TO. 

"  Ah,  ah  !"  said  the  doctor,  "  I  was  ignorant  that  I  had 
a  competitor;  but  I  hope,  M.  le  Grouverneur,  that  you  will 
show  him  all  proper  respect  in  consequence." 

"  Yes,  yes,  make  your  mind  easy;  he  shall  be  decently 
interred  in  the  newest  sack  we  can  find.  Will  that  satisfy 
you  ?" 

"  Must  we  do  this  last  formality  in  your  presence,  sir  ?" 
inquired  a  turnkey. 

"  Certainly.  But  make  haste — I  cannot  stay  here  all 
day."  Fresh  footsteps,  going  and  coming,  were  now  heard, 
and  a  moment  afterward  the  noise  of  cloth  being  rubbed 
reached  Dantes'  ears,  the  bed  creaked  on  its  hinges  and 
the  heavy  foot  of  a  man  who  lifts  a  weight  resounded  on 
the  floor;  then  the  bed  again  creaked  under  the  weight 
deposited  upon  it. 

"In  the  evening!"  said  the  governor. 

"Will  there  be  any  mass?"  asked  one  of  the  attend- 
ants. 

"  That  is  impossible,"  replied  the  governor.  "  The 
chaplain  of  the  chateau  came  to  me  yesterday  to  beg  for 
leave  of  absence,  in  order  to  take  a  trip  to  Hyeres  for  a 
week.  I  told  him  I  would  attend  to  the  prisoners  in  his 
absence.  If  the  poor  abbe  had  not  been  in  such  a  hurry 
he  might  have  had  his  requiem." 

"Pooh!  pooh!"  said  the  doctor,  with  the  accustomed 
impiety  of  persons  of  his  profession,  "  he  is  a  churchman. 
God  will  respect  his  profession,  and  not  give  the  devil  the 
wicked  delight  of  sending  him  a  priest."  A  shout  of 
laughter  followed  this  brutal  jest.  During  this  time  the 
operation  of  putting  the  body  in  the  sack  was  going  on. 

"  This  evening,"  said  the  governor,  when  the  task  was 
ended. 

"At  what  o'clock?"  inquired  the  turnkey. 

"  Why,  about  10  or  11  o'clock." 

"  Shall  we  watch  by  the  corpse?" 

"Of  what  use  would  it  be?  Shut  the  dungeon  as  if  he 
were  alive — that  is  all."  Then  the  steps  retreated  and  the 
voices  died  away  in  the  distance;  the  noise  of  the  door, 
with  its  creaking  hinges  and  bolts,  ceased,  and  a  silence 
duller  than  any  solitude  ensued — the  silence  of  death, 
which  pervaded  all,  and  struck  its  icy  chill  through  the 
young  man's  whole  frame.  Then  he  raised  the  flag-stone 
cautiously  with  his  head  and  looked  carefully  around  the 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO.  191 

chamber.    It  was  empty;  and  Dantes,  quitting  the  passage, 
entered  it. 


CHAPTER  XX. 

THE  CEMETERY  OF  THE  CHATEAU  D'lF. 

ON  THE  bed,  at  full  length  and  faintly  lighted  by  the 
pale  ray  that  penetrated  the  window,  was  visible  a  sack  of 
coarse  cloth,  under  the  large  folds  of  which  were  stretched 
a  long  and  stiffened  form;  it  was  Faria's  last  winding- 
sheet— a  winding-sheet  which,  as  the  turnkey  said,  cost  so 
little.  All,  then,  was  completed.  A  material  separation 
had  taken  place  between  Dantes  and  his  old  friend;  he 
could  no  longer  see  those  eyes  which  had  remained  open  as 
if  to  look  even  beyond  death;  he  could  no  longer  clasp 
that  hand  of  industry  which  had  lifted  for  him  the  veil 
that  had  concealed  hidden  and  obscure  things.  Faria,  the 
usual  and  good  companion,  with  whom  he  was  accustomed 
to  live  so  intimately,  no  longer  breathed.  He  seated  him- 
self on  the  edge  of  that  terrible  bed  and  fell  into  a  melan- 
choly and  gloomy  reverie. 

Alone!  he  was  alone!  again  relapsed  into  silence!  he 
found  himself  once  again  in  the  presence  of  nothingness  ! 
Alone!  no  longer  to  see,  no  longer  to  hear  the  voice  of  the 
only  human  being  who  attached  him  to  life!  Was  it  not 
better,  like  Faria,  to  seek  the  presence  of  his  Maker  and 
learn  the  enigma  of  life  at  the  risk  of  passing  through  the 
mournful  gate  of  intense  suffering?  The  idea  of  suicide, 
driven  away  by  his  friend,  and  forgotten  in  his  presence 
while  living,  arose  like  a  phantom  before  him  in  presence 
of  his  dead  body. 

"  If  I  could  die,"  he  said,  "I  should  go  where  he  goes 
and  should  assuredly  find  him  again.  But  how  to  die?  It 
is  very  easy,"  he  continued,  with  a  smile  of  bitterness;  "  I 
will  remain  here,  rush  on  the  first  person  that  opens  the 
door,  will  strangle  him  and  then  they  will  guillotine  me." 
But  as  it  happens  that  in  excessive  griefs,  as  in  great  tem- 
pests, the  abyss  is  found  between  the  tops  of  the  loftiest 
waves,  Dantes  recoiled  from  the  idea  of  this  infamous 
death  and  passed  suddenly  from  despair  to  an  ardent  desire 
for  life  and  liberty. 

"  Die!  oh  no,"  he  exclaimed,  "  not  die  now,  after  having 


192  THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO. 


lived  and  suffered  so  long  and  so  much!  Die!  yes,  had  I 
died  years  since;  but  now  it  would  be,  indeed,  to  give  way 
to  my  bitter  destiny.  No,  I  desire  to  live;  I  desire  to 
struggle  to  the  very  last;  I  wish  to  reconquer  the  happiness 
of  which  I  have  been  deprived.  Before  I  die  I  must  not 
forget  that  I  have  my  executioners  to  punish,  and  perhaps 
too,  who  knows,  some  friends  to  reward.  Yet  they  will 
forget  me  here  and  I  shall  die  in  my  dungeon  like  Faria." 
As  he  said  this,  he  remained  motionless,  his  eyes  fixed  like 
a  man  struck  with  a  sudden  idea,  but  whom  this  idea  fills 
with  amazement.  Suddenly  he  rose,  lifted  his  hand  to  his 
brow  as  if  his  brain  were  giddy,  paced  twice  or  thrice 
round  his  chamber  and  then  paused  abruptly  at  the  bed. 

"Ah!  ah!"  he  muttered,  "who  inspires  me  with  this 
thought  ?  Is  that  thou,  gracious  God  ?  Since  none  but 
the  dead  pass  freely  from  this  dungeon,  let  me  assume  the 
place  of  the  dead  I"  Without  giving  himself  time  to  re- 
consider his  decision,  and,  indeed,  that  he  might  not  allow 
his  thoughts  to  be  distracted  from  his  desperate  resolution, 
he  bent  over  the  appalling  sack,  opened  it  with  the  knife 
which  Faria  had  made,  drew  the  corpse  from  the  sack  and 
transported  it  along  the  gallery  to  his  own  chamber,  laid  it 
on  his  couch,  passed  round  its  head  the  rag  he  wore  at 
night  round  his  own,  covered  it  with  his  counterpane,  ouce 
again  kissed  the  ice-cold  brow  and  tried  vainly  to  close  the 
resisting  eyes  which  glared  horribly;  turned  the  head 
toward  the  wall,  so  that  the  jailor  might,  when  he  brought 
his  evening  meal,  believe  that  he  was  asleep,  as  was  his 
frequent  custom;  returned  along  the  gallery,  threw  the  bed 
against  the  wall,  returned  to  the  other  cell,  took  from  the 
hiding-place  the  needle  and  thread,  flung  off  his  rags,  that 
they  might  .  feel  the  naked  flesh  only  beneath  the  coarse 
sackcloth,  and,  getting  inside  the  sack,  placed  himself  in 
the  posture  in  which  the  dead  body  had  been  laid  and 
sewed  up  the  mouth  of  the  sack  withinside. 

The  beating  of  his  heart  might  have  been  heard  if  by 
any  mischance  the  jailers  had  entered  at  that  moment. 
Dante's  might  have  waited  until  the  evening  visit  was 
over,  but  he  was  afraid  the  governor  might  change  his 
resolution  and  order  the  dead  body  to  be  removed  earlier. 
In  that  case  his  last  hope  would  have  been  destroyed.  Now 
his  project  was  settled  under  any  circumstances,  and 
he  hoped  thus  to  carry  it  into  effect.  If,  during  the  time 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CR18TO.  193 

he  was  being  conveyed,  the  grave-diggers  should  discover 
that  they  were  conveying  a  live  instead  of  a  dead  body, 
Dant&s  did  not  intend  to  give  them  time  to  recognize  him, 
but,  with  a  sudden  cut  of  the  knife,  he  meant  to  open  the 
sack  from  top  to  botton,  and,  profiting  by  their  alarm, 
escape;  if  they  tried  to  catch  him  he  would  use  his 
knife. 

If  they  conducted  him  to  the  cemetery  and  laid  him  in 
the  grave  he  would  allow  himself  to  be  covered  with  earth 
and  then,  as  it  was  night,  the  grave-diggers  could  scarcely 
have  turned  their  backs  ere  he  would  have  worked  his  way 
through  the  soft  soil  and  escape,  hoping  that  the  weight 
would  not  be  too  heavy  for  him  to  support.  If  he  was  de- 
ceived in  this,  and  the  earth  proved  too  heavy,  he  would 
be  stifled,  and  then,  so  much  the  better,  all  would  be  over. 
Dantes  had  not  eaten  since  the  previous  evening,  but  he 
had  not  thought  of  hunger  or  thirst,  nor  did  he  now  think 
of  it.  His  position  was  too  precarious  to  allow  him  even 
time  to  reflect  on  any  thought  but  one. 

The  first  risk  that  Dautes  ran  was,  that  the  jailer,  when 
he  brought  him  his  supper  at  7  o'clock,  might  perceive  the 
substitution  he  had  effected;  fortunately,  twenty  times  at 
least,  from  misanthropy  or  fatigue,  Dantes  had  received 
his  jailer  in  bed,  and  then  the  man  placed  his  bread  and 
soup  on  the  table,  and  went  away  without  saying  a  word. 
This  time  the  jailer  might  not  be  silent  as  usual,  but  speak 
to  Dantes,  and,  seeing  that  he  received  no  reply,  go  to  the 
bed,  and  thus  discover  all. 

When  7  o'clock  came,  Dantes'  agony  really  commenced. 
His  hand  placed  upon  his  heart  was  unable  to  repress  its 
throbbings,  while,  with  the  other,  he  wiped  the  perspira- 
tion from  his  temples.  From  time  to  time  shudderings 
ran  through  his  whole  frame  and  collapsed  his  heart  as  if 
it  were  frozen.  Then  he  thought  he  was  going  to  die. 
Yet  the  hours  passed  on  without  any  stir  in  the  ch&teau, 
and  Dantes  felt  he  had  escaped  this  first  danger;  it  was  a 
good  augury.  At  length,  about  the  hour  the  governor  had 
appointed,  footsteps  were  heard  on  the  stairs.  Edmond 
felt  that  the  moment  had  arrived,  and,  summoning  up  all 
his  courage,  held  his  breath,  happy  if  at  the  same  time  he 
could  have  repressed  in  like  manner  the  hasty  pulsation  of 
his  arteries.  They  stopped  at  the  door — there  were  two 
Bteps,  and  Dantes  guessed  it  was  the  two  grave-diggers  who 


194  THE  CO  UNT  OF  MONTE  CRI8TO. 

came  to  seek  him — this  idea  was  soon  converted  into  cer- 
tainty, when  he  heard  the  noise  they  made  in  putting  down 
the  hand-bier.  The  door  opened,  and  a  dim  light  reached 
Dantes'  eyes  through  the  coarse  sack  that  covered  him ; 
he  saw  two  shadows  approach  his  bed,  a  third  remaining 
at  the  door  with  a  torch  in  his  hand.  Each  of  these  two 
men,  approaching  the  ends  of  the  bed,  took  the  sack  by 
its  extremities. 

"He's  heavy,  though,  for  an  old  and  thin  man/'  said 
one,  as  he  raised  the  head. 

"  They  say  every  year  adds  half  a  pound  to  the  weight 
of  the  bones,"  said  another,  lifting  the  feet. 

"Have  you  tied  the  knot?"  inquired  the  speaker. 

"  What  would  be  the  use  of  carrying  so  much  more 
weight?"  was  the  reply;  "I  can  do  that  when  we  get 
there. 

"Yes,  you're  right,"  replied  the  companion. 

"  What's  the  knot  for?"  thought  Dantes. 

They  deposited  the  supposed  corpse  on  the  bier.  Ed- 
mond  stiffened  himself  in  order  to  play  his  part  of  a  dead 
man,  and  then  the  party,  lighted  by  the  man  with  the 
torch,  who  went  first,  ascended  the  stairs.  Suddenly  he 
felt  the  fresh  and  sharp  night  air,  and  Dante  recognized  the 
mistral.  It  was  a  sudden  sensation,  at  the  same  time 
replete  with  delight  and  agony.  The  bearers  advanced 
twenty  paces,  then  stopped,  putting  their  bier  down  on 
the  ground.  One  of  them  went  away,  and  Dantes  heard 
his  shoes  on  the  pavement. 

"Where  am  I,  then?"  he  asked  himself. 

"Keally,  he  is  by  no  means  a  light  load!"  said  the  other 
bearer,  sitting  on  the  edge  of  the  hand-barrow.  Dantes' 
first  impulse  was  to  escape,  but  fortunately  he  did  not  at- 
tempt it. 

"  Light  me,  sir,"  said  the  other  bearer,  "  or  I  shall  not 
find  what  I  am  looking  for." 

The  man  with  the  torch  complied,  although  not  asked 
in  the  most  polite  terms. 

"  What  can  he  be  looking  for?"  thought  Edmond.  "  The 
spade,  perhaps." 

An  exclamation  of  satisfaction  indicated  that  the  grave- 
digger  had  found  the  object  of  his  search. 

"  Here  it  is  at  last,"  he  said,  "  not  without  some  trouble, 
though." 


TEE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO.  196 

"  Yes,"  was  the  answer,  "  but  it  has  lost  nothing  by 
waiting." 

As  he  said  this,  the  man  came  toward  Edmond,  who 
heard  a  heavy  and  sounding  substance  laid  down  beside 
him,  and  at  the  same  moment  a  cord  was  fastened  round 
his  feet  with  sudden  and  painful  violence. 

"  Well,  have  you  tied  the  knot?"  inquired  the  grave-dig- 
ger, who  was  looking  on. 

"Yes,  and  pretty  tight,  too,  I  can  tell  you,"  was  the 
answer. 

"Move  on,  then." 

And  the  bier  was  lifted  once  more  and  they  proceeded. 

They  advanced  fifty  paces  farther,  and  then  stopped  to 
open  the  door,  then  went  forward  again.  The  noise  of 
the  waves  dashing  against  the  rocks  on  which  the  chateau 
is  built  reached  DanteV  ear  distinctly  as  they  progressed. 

"Bad  weather!"  observed  one  of  the  bearers;  "not  a 
pleasant  night  for  a  dip  in  the  sea." 

"  Why,  yes,  the  abbe  runs  a  chance  of  being  wet,"  said 
the  other;  and  then  there  was  a  burst  of  brutal  laughter. 

Dante's  did  not  comprehend  the  jest,  but  his  hair  stood 
erect  on  his  head. 

"  Well,  here  we  are  at  last,"  said  one  of  them;  "  a  little 
farther — a  little  farther,"  said  the  other.  "  You  know 
very  well  that  the  last  was  stopped  on  his  way,  dashed  on 
the  rocks,  and  the  governor  told  us  next  day  that  we  were 
careless  fellows." 

They  ascended  five  or  six  more  steps,  and  then  Dant£s 
felt  that  they  took  him,  one  by  the  head  and  the  other  by 
the  heels,  and  swung  him  to  and  fro.  "One!"  said  the 
grave-diggers,  "two!  three,  and  away!"  And  at  the  same 
instant  Dantes  felt  himself  flung  into  the  air  like  a  wounded 
bird,  falling,  falling  with  a  rapidity  that  made  his  blood 
curdle.  Although  drawn  downward  by  the  same  heavy 
weight  which  hastened  his  rapid  descent,  it  seemed  to  him 
as  if  the  time  were  a  century.  At  last,  with  a  terrific 
dash,  he  entered  the  ice-cold  water,  and  as  he  did  so  he 
uttered  a  shrill  cry,  stifled  in  a  moment  by  his  immersion 
beneath  the  waves. 

Dantes  had  been  flung  into  the  sea,  into  whose  depths 
he  was  dragged  by  a  thirty-six  pound  shot  tied  to  his  feet. 
The  sea  is  the  cemetery  of  the  Chateau  d'If. 


196  THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO. 

CHAPTER  XXI. 

THE     ISLE     OF     TIBOULEN. 

DANTES,  although  giddy  and  almost  suffocated,  had  yet 
sufficient  presence  of  mind  to  hold  his  breath;  and  as  his 
right  hand  (prepared  as  he  was  for  every  chance)  held  his 
knife  open,  he  rapidly  ripped  up  the  sack,  extricated  his 
arm,  and  then  his  body;  but,  in  spite  of  all  his  efforts  to 
free  himself  from  the  bullet,  he  felt  it  dragging  him  down 
still  lower.  He  then  bent  his  body,  and  by  a  desperate 
effort  severed  the  cord  that  bound  his  legs,  at  the  moment 
he  was  suffocating.  With  a  vigorous  spring  he  rose  to  the 
surface  of  the  sea,  while  the  bullet  bore  to  its  depths  the 
sack  that  had  so  nearly  become  his  shroud. 

Dantes  merely  paused  to  breathe,  and  then  dived  again, 
in  order  to  avoid  being  seen.  When  he  arose  a  second 
time  he  was  fifty  paces  from  where  he  had  first  sunk.  He 
saw  overhead  a  black  and  tempestuous  sky,  over  which  the 
wind  was  driving  the  fleeting  vapors  that  occasionally 
suffered  a  twinkling  star  to  appear;  before  him  was  the 
vast  expanse  of  waters,  somber  and  terrible,  whose  waves 
foamed  and  roared  as  if  before  the  approach  of  a  storm. 
Behind  him,  blacker  than  the  sea,  blacker  than  the  sky, 
rose,  like  a  phantom,  the  giant  of  granite,  whose  project- 
ing crags  seemed  like  arms  extended  to  seize  their  prey; 
and  on  the  highest  rock  was  a  torch  that  lighted  two 
figures.  He  fancied  these  two  forms  were  looking  at  the 
sea;  doubtless  these  strange  grave-diggers  had  heard  his 
cry.  Dantes  dived  again  and  remained  a  long  time  be- 
neath the  water.  This  maneuver  was  already  familiar  to 
him,  and  usually  attracted  a  crowd  of  spectators  in  the  bay 
before  the  lighthouse  at  Marseilles  when  he  swam  there, 
and  who,  with  one  accord,  pronounced  him  the  best 
swimmer  in  the  port.  When  he  reappeared  the  light  had 
disappeared. 

It  was  necessary  to  strike  out  to  sea.  Ratonneau  and 
Pomegue  are  the  nearest  isles  of  all  those  that  surround 
the  Chateau  d'lf ;  but  Ratonneau  and  Pomegue  are  in- 
habited, together  with  the  islet  of  Daume;  Tiboulen  or 
Lemaire  were  the  most  secure.  The  isles  of  Tiboulen  and 
Lemaire  are  a  league  from  the  Chateau  d'lf;  Dantes, 


THE  CO  UNT  OF  MONTE  CRI8TO.  197 

nevertheless,  determined  to  make  for  them.  But  how 
could  he  find  his  way  in  the  darkness  of  the  night?  At 
this  moment  he  saw  before  him,  like  a  brilliant  star,  the 
lighthouse  of  Planier.  By  leaving  this  light  on  the  right, 
he  kept  the  Isle  of  Tiboulen  a  little  on  the  left;  by  turn- 
ing to  the  left,  therefore,  he  would  find  it.  But,  as  we 
have  said,  it  was  at  least  a  league  from  the  Chateau  d'lf  to 
this  island.  Often  in  prison  Faria  had  said  to  him,  when 
he  saw  him  idle  and  inactive,  "  Dantes,  you  must  not  give 
way  to  this  listlessness;  you  will  be  drowned  if  you  seek 
to  escape,  and  your  strength  has  not  been  properly  exercised 
and  prepared  for  exertion."  These  words  rang  in  DanteV 
ears  even  beneath  the  waves;  he  hastened  to  cleave  his  way 
through  them  to  see  if  he  had  not  lost  his  strength.  He 
found  with  pleasure  that  his  captivity  had  taken  away 
nothing  of  his  power,  and  that  he  was  still  master  of  that 
element  on  whose  bosom  he  had  so  often  sported  as  a  boy. 

Fear,  that  relentless  pursuer,  clogged  DanteV  efforts. 
He  listened  if  any  noise  was  audible;  each  time  that  he 
rose  over  the  waves  his  looks  scanned  the  horizon  and 
strove  to  penetrate  the  darkness.  Every  wave  seemed  a 
boat  in  his  pursuit,  and  he  redoubled  exertions  that  in- 
creased his  distance  from  the  chateau,  but  the  repetition 
of  which  weakened  his  strength.  He  swam  on  still,  and 
already  the  terrible  chateau  had  disappeared  in  the  dark- 
ness. He  could  not  see  it,  but  he  felt  its  presence.  An 
hour  passed,  during  which  Dantes,  excited  by  the  feeling 
of  freedom,  continued  to  cleave  the  waves. 

"  Let  us  see,"  said  he,  "I  have  swum  above  an  hour, 
but,  as  the  wind  is  against  me,  that  has  retarded  my  speed; 
however,  if  I  am  not  mistaken,  I  must  be  close  to  the  Isle 
of  Tiboulen.  But  what  if  I  were  mistaken?" 

A  shudder  passed  over  him.  He  sought  to  tread  water 
in  order  to  rest  himself,  but  the  sea  was  too  violent,  and  he 
felt  that  he  could  not  make  use  of  this  means  of  repose. 

"Well,"  said  he,  "I  will  swim  on  until  I  am  worn  out 
or  the  cramp  seizes  me,  and  then  I  shall  sink!"  and  he 
struck  out  with  the  energy  of  despair. 

Suddenly  the  sky  seemed  to  him  to  become  still  darker 
and  more  dense,  and  compact  clouds  lowered  toward  him; 
at  the  same  time  he  felt  a  violent  pain  in  his  knee.  His 
imagination  told  him  a  ball  had  struck  him  and  that  in  a 
moment  he  would  hear  the  report;  but  he  heard  nothing. 


198  TEE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO. 

Dantes  put  out  his  hand  and  felt  resistance;  he  then  ex- 
tended his  leg  and  felt  the  land,  and  in  an  instant  guessed 
the  nature  of  the  object  he  had  taken  for  a  cloud. 

Before  him  rose  a  mass  of  strangely  formed  rocks,  that 
resembled  nothing  so  much  as  a  vast  fire  petrified  at  the 
moment  of  its  most  fervent  combustion.  It  was  the  Isle 
of  Tiboulen.  Dantes  rose,  advanced  a  few  steps,  and, 
with  a  fervent  prayer  of  gratitude,  stretched  himself  on 
the  granite,  which  seemed  to  him  softer  than  down.  Then, 
in  spite  of  the  wind  and  rain,  he  fell  into  the  deep,  sweet 
sleep  of  those  worn  out  by  fatigue.  At  the  expiration  of 
an  hour  Edmond  was  awakened  by  the  roar  of  the  thunder. 
The  tempest  was  unchained  and  let  loose  in  all  its  fury; 
from  time  to  time  a  flash  of  lightning  stretched  across  the 
heavens  like  a  fiery  serpent,  lighting  up  the  clouds  that 
rolled  on  like  the  waves  of  an  immense  chaos. 

Dautes  had  not  been  deceived.  He  had  reached  the  first 
of  the  two  isles,  which  was,  in  reality,  Tiboulen.  He  knew 
that  it  was  barren  and  without  shelter;  but  when  the  sea 
became  more  calm  he  resolved  to  plunge  into  its  waves 
again  and  swim  to  Lemaire,  equally  arid,  but  larger,  and 
consequently  better  adapted  for  concealment. 

An  overhanging  rock  offered  him  a  temporary  shelter, 
and  scarcely  had  he  availed  himself  of  it  when  the 
tempest  burst  forth  in  all  its  fury.  Edmond  felt  the  rock 
beneath  which  he  lay  tremble;  the  waves,  dashing  them- 
selves against  the  granite  rock,  wetted  him  with  their 
spray.  In  safety  as  he  was,  he  felt  himself  become  giddy 
in  the  midst  of  this  war  of  the  elements  and  the  dazzling 
brightness  of  the  lightning.  It  seemed  to  him  that  the 
island  trembled  to  its  base,  and  that  it  would,  like  a  vessel 
at  anchor,  break  its  moorings  and  bear  him  off  into  the 
the  center  of  the  storm.  He  then  recollected  that  he  had 
not  eaten  or  drank  for  four-and-twenty  hours.  He-  ex- 
tended his  hands  and  drank  greedily  of  the  rain-water  that 
had  lodged  in  a  hollow  of  the  rock. 

As  he  rose,  a  flash  of  lightning,  that  seemed  as  if  the 
whole  of  the  heavens  were  opened,  illumined  the  darkness. 
Bv  its  light,  between  the  Isle  of  Lemaire  and  Cape  Croi- 
selle,  a  quarter  of  a  league  distant,  Dantes  saw,  like  a 
specter,  a  fishing-boat  driven  rapidly  on  by  the  force  of 
the  wind  and  waves.  A  second  after  he  saw  it  again,  ap- 
proaching nearer.  Dantes  cried  at  the  top  of  his  voice  to 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRI8TO.  199 

warn  them  of  their  danger,  but  they  saw  it  themselves. 
Another  flash  showed  him  four  men  clinging  to  the  shat- 
tered mast  and  the  rigging,  while  a  fifth  clung  to  the 
broken  rudder. 

The  men  he  beheld  saw  him,  doubtless,  for  their  cries 
were  carried  to  his  ears  by  the  wind.  Above  the  splintered 
mast  a  sail  rent  to  tatters  was  waving;  suddenly  the  ropes 
that  still  held  it  gave  way  and  it  disappeared  in  the  dark- 
ness of  the  night  like  a  vast  sea-bird.  At  the  same  mo- 
ment a  violent  crash  was  heard  and  cries  of  distress. 
Perched  on  the  summit  of  the  rock,  Dantes  saw,  by  the 
lightning,  the  vessel  in  pieces,  and  among  the  fragments 
were  visible  the  agonized  features  of  the  unhappy  sailors. 
Then  all  became  dark  again. 

Dantes  ran  down  the  rocks  at  the  risk  of  being  himself 
dashed  to  pieces;  he  listened,  he  strove  to  examine,  but  he 
heard  and  saw  nothing — all  human  cries  had  ceased,  and 
the  tempest  alone  continued  to  rage.  By  degrees  the  wind 
abated,  vast  gray  clouds  rolled  toward  the  west  and  the 
blue  firmament  appeared  studded  with  bright  stars.  Soon 
a  red  streak  became  visible  in  the  horizon,  the  waves 
whitened,  a  light  played  over  them  and  gilded  their  foam- 
ing crests  with  gold.  It  was  day. 

Dantes  stood  silent  and  motionless  before  this  vast  spec- 
tacle, for  since  his  captivity  he  had  forgotten  it.  He 
turned  toward  the  fortress  and  looked  both  at  the  sea  and 
the  land.  The  gloomy  building  rose  from  the  bosom  of 
the  ocean  with  that  imposing  majesty  of  inanimate  objects 
that  seems  at  once  to  watch  and  command.  It  was  about 
5  o'clock.  The  sea  continued  to  grow  calmer. 

"In  two  or  three  hours,  "thought  Dant^s,  "the  turnkey 
will  enter  my  chamber,  find  the  body  of  my  poor  friend, 
recognize  it,  seek  for  me  in  vain,  and  give  the  alarm. 
Then  the  passage  will  be  discovered;  the  men  who  cast  me 
into  the  sea,  and  who  must  have  heard  the  cry  I  uttered, 
will  be  questioned.  Then  boats  filled  with  armed  soldiers 
will  pursue  the  wretched  fugitive.  The  cannon  will  warn 
every  one  to  refuse  shelter  to  a  man  wandering  about  naked 
and  famished.  The  police  of  Marseilles  will  be  on  the 
alert  by  land,  while  the  governor  pursues  me  by  sea.  I  am 
cold,  I  am  hungry.  I  have  lost  even  the  knife  that  saved 
me.  Oh,  my  God!  I  have  suffered  enough  surely.  Have 
pity  on  me,  and  do  for  me  what  I  am  unable  to  do  for 
myself." 


200  THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  VRI8TO. 

As  Dantes  (his  eyes  turned  in  the  direction  of  the 
Chdteau  d'lf)  uttered  this  prayer,  he  saw  appear,  at  the  ex- 
tremity of  the  Isle  of  Pomegue,  like  a  bird  skimming  over 
the  sea,  a  small  bark,  that  the  eyes  of  a  sailor  alone  could 
recognize  as  a  Genoese  tartaue.  She  was  coming  out  of 
Marseilles  harbor,  and  was  standing  out  to  sea  rapidly,  her 
sharp  prow  cleaving  through  the  waves.  "Oh!"  cried 
Edmond,  "  to  think  that  in  half  an  hour  I  could  join  her, 
did  I  not  fear  being  questioned,  detected,  and  conveyed 
back  to  Marseilles!  What  can  I  do?  What  story  can  I  in- 
vent? Under  pretext  of  trading  along  the  coast,  these 
men,  who  are  in  reality  smugglers,  will  prefer  selling  me  to 
doing  a  good  action.  I  must  wait.  But  I  cannot — I  am 
starving.  In  a  few  hours  my  strength  will  be  utterly  ex- 
hausted; besides,  perhaps,  I  have  not  been  missed  at  the 
fortress.  I  can  pass  as  one  of  the  sailors  wrecked  last  night. 
This  story  will  pass  current,  for  there  is  no  one  left  to 
contradict  me." 

As  he  spoke,  Dantes  looked  toward  the  spot  where  the 
fishing-vessel  had  been  wrecked,  and  started.  The  red  cap 
of  one  of  the  sailors  hung  to  a  point  of  the  rock,  and  some 
beams  that  had  formed  part  of  the  vessel's  keel  floated  at 
the  foot  of  the  crags.  In  an  instant  Dantes  plan  was 
formed.  He  swam  to  the  cap,  placed  it  on  his  head, 
seized  one  of  the  beams,  and  struck  out  so  as  to  cross  the 
line  the  vessel  was  taking. 

"I  am  saved!"  murmured  he.  And  this  conviction  re- 
stored his  strength. 

He  soon  perceived  the  vessel,  which,  having  the  wind 
right  ahead,  was  tacking  between  the  Chdteau  d'lf  and  the 
tower  of  Planier.  For  an  instant  he  feared  lest  the  bark, 
instead  of  keeping  in  shore,  should  stand  out  to  sea;  but 
he  soon  saw  by  her  maneuvers  that  she  wished  to  pass,  like 
most  vessels  bound  for  Italy,  between  the  islands  of  Jaros 
and  Calaseraigne.  However,  the  vessel  and  the  swimmer 
insensibly  neared  one  another,  and  in  one  of  its  tacks  the 
bark  approached  within  a  quarter  of  a  mile  of  him.  He 
rose  on  the  waves,  making  signs  of  distress;  but  no  one  on 
board  perceived  him,  and  the  vessel  stood  on  another  tack. 
Dantes  would  have  cried  out,  but  he  reflected  that  the  wind 
would  drown  his  voice. 

It  was  then  he  rejoiced  at  his  precaution  in  taking  the 
beam,  for  without  it  he  would  have  been  unable,  perhaps. 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CR18TO.  201 

to  reach  the  vessel — certainly  to  return  to  shore,  should  he 
be  unsuccessful  in  attacting  attention. 

Dantee,  although  almost  sure  as  to  what  course  the  bark 
would  take,  yet  watched  it  anxiously  until  it  tacked 
and  stood  toward  him.  Then  he  advanced  ;  but  before 
they  had  met  the  vessel  again  changed  her  direction.  By 
a  violent  effort  he  rose  half  out  of  the  water,  waving  his 
cap  and  uttering  a  loud  shout  peculiar  to  sailors.  This 
time  he  was  both  seen  and  heard,  and  the  tartane  instantly 
steered  toward  him.  At  the  same  time  he  saw  they  were 
about  to  lower  the  boat. 

An  instant  after,  the  boat,  rowed  by  two  men,  advanced 
rapidly  toward  him.  Dant^s  abandoned  the  beam,  which 
he  thought  now  useless,  and  swam  vigorously  to  meet  them. 
But  he  had  reckoned  too  much  upon  his  strength,  and  then 
he  felt  how  serviceable  the  beam  had  been  to  him.  His 
arms  grew  stiff,  his  legs  had  lost  their  flexibility,  and  he 
was  almost  breathless. 

He  uttered  a  second  cry.  The  two  sailors  redoubled 
their  efforts,  and  one  of  them  cried  in  Italian  "Courage!" 

The  word  reached  his  ear  as  a  wave  which  he  no  longer 
had  the  strength  to  surmount  passed  over  his  head.  He 
rose  again  to  the  surface,  supporting  himself  by  one  of 
those  desperate  efforts  a  drowning  man  makes,  uttered  a 
third  cry,  and  felt  himself  sink  again,  as  if  the  fatal  bullet 
were  again  tied  to  his  feet.  The  water  passed  over  his 
head  and  the  sky  seemed  livid.  A  violent  effort  again 
brought  him  to  the  surface.  He  felt  as  if  something 
seized  him  by  the  hair,  but  he  saw  and  heard  nothing. 
He  had  fainted. 

When  he  opened  his  eyes  Dantes  found  himself  on  the 
deck  of  the  tartane.  His  first  care  was  to  see  what  direc- 
tion they  were  pursuing.  They  were  rapidly  leaving  the 
Chateau  d'lf  behind.  Dantes  was  so  exhausted  that  the 
exclamation  of  joy  he  uttered  was  mistaken  for  a  sigh. 

As  we  have  said  he  was  lying  on  the  deck.  A  sailor  was 
rubbing  his  limbs  with  a  woolen  cloth;  another  whom  he 
recognized  as  the  one  who  had  cried  out  "  Courage!"  held 
a  gourd  full  of  rum  to  his  mouth;  while  the  third,  an  old 
sailor,  at  once  the  pilot  and  captain,  looked  on  with  that 
egotistical  pity  men  feel  for  a  misfortune  that  they  have 
escaped  yesterday  and  which  may  overtake  them  to- 
morrow. 


202  THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO, 

A  few  drops  of  the  rum  restored  suspended  animation, 
while  the  friction  of  his  limbs  restored  their  elasticity. 

"  Who  are  you?"  said  the  pilot,  in  bad  French. 

"  I  am/'  replied  Dantes,  in  bad  Italian,  "  a  Maltese 
sailor.  We  were  coming  from  Syracuse  laden  with  grain. 
The  storm  of  last  night  overtook  us  at  Cape  Morgion,  and 
we  were  wrecked  on  these  rocks." 

"  Where  do  you  come  from?" 

"  From  these  rocks  that  I  had  the  good  luck  to  cling  to 
while  our  captain  and  the  rest  of  the  crew  were  all  lost.  I 
saw  your  ship,  and  fearful  of  being  left  to  perish  on  the 
desolate  island,  I  swam  off  on  a  fragment  of  the  vessel  in 
order  to  try  and  gain  your  bark.  You  have  saved  my  life, 
and  I  thank  you,"  continued  Dante's.  "  I  was  lost  when 
one  of  your  sailors  caught  hold  of  my  hair." 

"It  was  I,"  said  a  sailor  of  a  frank  and  manly  appear- 
ance; "  and  it  was  time,  for  you  were  sinking." 

"Yes,"  returned  Dantes,  holding  out  his  hand,  "I 
thank  you  again." 

"I  almost  hesitated  though,"  replied  the  sailor;  "you 
looked  more  like  a  brigand  than  an  honest  man,  with  your 
beard  six  inches  and  your  hair  a  foot  long." 

Dantes  recollected  that  his  hair  and  beard  had  not  been 
cut  all  the  time  he  was  at  the  Chateau  d'If. 

"Yes,"  said  he,  "I  made  a  vow  to  our  Lady  of  the 
Grotto  not  to  cut  my  hair  or  beard  for  ten  years  if  I  were 
saved  in  a  moment  of  danger  ;  but  to-day  the  vow  expires. 

"  Now  what  are  we  to  do  with  you?"  said  the  captain. 

"  Alas!  anything  you  please.  My  captain  is  dead ; 
I  have  barely  escaped;  but  I  am  a  good  sailor.  Leave  me 
at  the  first  port  you  make;  I  shall  be  sure  to  find 
employment." 

"Do  you  know  the  Mediterranean?" 

' '  I  have  sailed  over  it  since  my  childhood." 

"  You  know  the  best  harbors  ?" 

"  There  are  few  ports  that  I  could  not  enter  or  leave 
with  my  eyes  blinded." 

"I  say,  cap  tain, "  said  the  sailor  who  had  cried 
"Courage!"  to  Dantes,  "if  what  he  says  is  true,  what 
hinders  his  staying  with  us?" 

"  If  he  says  true,"  said  the  captain,  doubtingly.  "But 
in  his  present  condition  he  will  promise  anything,  and  take 
his  chance  of  keeping  it  afterward." 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRI8TO.  203 

I  will  do  more  than  I  promise/'  said  Dantes. 
We  shall  see,"  returned  the  other,  smiling. 

*  Where  are  you  going  to?"  replied  Dantes. 

'To  Leghorn." 
'  Then  why,  instead  of  tacking  so  frequently,  do  you 
not  sail  nearer  the  wind?" 

Because  we  should  run  straight  on  the  Island  of  Rion." 
( You  shall  pass  it  by  twenty  fathoms. " 
Take  the  helm,  and  let  us  see  what  you  know." 

The  young  man  took  the  helm,  ascertaining  by  a  slight 
pressure  if  the  vessel  answered  the  rudder,  and  seeing 
that,  without  being  a  first-rate  sailer,  she  yet  was  tolerably 
obedient. 

"  To  the  braces,"  said  he. 

The  four  seamen,  who  composed  the  crew,  obeyed,  while 
the  pilot  looked  on. 

"Haul  taut." 

They  obeyed. 

"Belay." 

This  order  was  also  executed;  and  the  vessel  passed  as 
Dantes  had  predicted,  twenty  fathoms  to  the  right. 

"Bravo!"  said  the  captain. 

"  Bravo!"  repeated  the  sailors. 

And  they  all  regarded  with  astonishment  this  man, 
whose  eye  had  recovered  an  intelligence  and  his  body  a 
vigor  they  were  far  from  suspecting. 

"You  see,"  said  Dantes,  quitting  the  helm,  "I  shall  be 
of  some  use  to  you,  at  least  during  the  voyage.  If  you  do 
not  want  me  at  Leghorn,  you  can  leave  me  there;  and  I 
will  pay  you  out  of  the  first  wages  I  get,  for  my  food  and 
the  clothes  you  lend  me." 

"  Ah,"  said  the  captain,  "  we  can  agree  very  well,  if  you 
are  reasonable." 

"  Give  me  what  you  give  the  others,  and  all  will  be 
arranged,"  returned  Dantes. 

"That's  not  fair,"  said  the  seaman  who  had  saved 
Dantes;  "for  you  know  more  than  we  do." 

"  What  is  that  to  you,  Jacopo?"  returned  the  captain. 
"  Every  one  is  free  to  ask  what  he  pleases." 

"That's  true,"  replied  Jacopo;  "I  only  made  the 
remark." 

"Well,  you  would  do  much  better  to  lend  him  a  jacket 
and  a  pair  of  trousers,  if  you  have  them." 


204  THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRI8TO. 

"No,"  said  Jacopo;  "but  I  have  a  shirt  and  a  pair  of 
trousers." 

"  That  is  all  I  want,"  interrupted  Dantes. 

Jacopo  dived  into  the  hold  and  soon  returned  with  what 
Edmond  wanted. 

"Now,  then,  do  you  wish  for  anything  else?"  said  the 
patron. 

"  A  piece  of  bread  and  another  glass  of  the  capital  rum 
I  tasted,  for  I  have  not  eaten  or  drank  for  a  long  time." 

He  had  not  tasted  food  for  forty  hours.  A  piece  of  bread 
was  bought  and  Jacopo  offered  him  the  gourd. 

"  Larboard  your  helm,"  cried  the  captain  to  the 
steersman. 

Dantes  glanced  to  the  same  side  as  he  lifted  the  gourd 
to  his  mouth;  but  his  hand  stopped. 

"Halloo!  what's  the  matter  at  the  Chateau  d'lf?"  said 
the  captain. 

A  small,  white  cloud,  which  had  attracted  Dantes'  at- 
tention, crowned  the  summit  of  the  bastion  of  the  Chdteau 
d'lf.  At  the  same  moment  the  faint  report  of  a  gun  was 
heard.  The  sailors  looked  at  one  another. 

"What  is  this?"  asked  the  captain. 

"A  prisoner  has  escaped  from  the  Chateau  d'lf;  and 
they  are  firing  the  alarm  gun,"  replied  Dantes. 

The  captain  glanced  at  him;  but  he  had  lifted  the  rum 
to  his  lips,  and  was  drinking  it  with  much  composure  that 
his  suspicions,  if  he  had  any,  died  away?. 

"At  any  rate,"  murmured  he,  "if  it  be,  so  much  the 
better,  for  I  have  made  a  rare  acquisition." 

Under  pretense  of  being  fatigued,  Dante's  asked  to  take 
the  helm;  the  steersman,  enchanted  to  be  relieved,  looked 
at  the  captain,  and  the  latter  by  a  sign  indicated  that  he 
might  abandon  it  to  his  new  comrade.  Dantes  could  thus 
keep  his  eyes  on  Marseilles. 

"What  is  the  day  of  the  month?"  asked  he  of  Jacopo, 
who  sat  down  beside  him. 
'  The  28th  of  February!" 
'In  what  year?" 

'  In  what  year — you  ask  me  in  what  year?" 
'  Yes,"  replied  the  young  man,  "I   ask  you  in  what 

r?" 

'  You  have  forgotten,  then?" 

'I   was    so    frightened    last    night,"  replied    Dantes, 


THE  CO  UNT  OF  MONTE  CRI81V.  205 

smiling,  "  that  I  have  almost  lost  my  memory.  I  ask  you 
what  year  is  it?" 

"  The  year  1829,"  returned  Jacopo. 

It  was  fourteen  years,  day  for  day,  since  Dantes'  arrest. 
He  was  19  when  he  entered  the  Chateat  d'lf ;  he  was  33 
when  he  escaped.  A  sorrowful  smile  passed  over  his  face; 
he  asked  himself  what  had  become  of  Mercedes,  who 
must  believe  him  dead.  Then  his  eyes  lighted  up  with 
hatred  as  he  thought  of  the  three  men  who  had  caused  him 
so  long  and  wretched  a  captivity.  He  renewed  against 
Danglars,  Fernand  and  Villefort  the  oath  of  implacable 
vengeance  he  had  made  in  his  dungeon.  This  oath  was 
no  longer  a  vain  menace;  for  the  fastest  sailer  in  the  Med- 
iterranean would  have  been  unable  to  overtake  the  little 
tartane,  that  with  every  stitch  of  canvas  set  was  flying 
before  the  wind  to  Leghorn. 


CHAPTER  XXII. 

THE  SMUGGLEKS. 

DANTES  had  not  been  a  day  on  board  before  he  had 
an  insight  into  the  persons  with  whom  he  sailed.  Without 
having  been  in  the  school  of  the  Abbe  Faria,  the  worthy 
master  of  La  Jeune  Amelie  (the  name  of  the  Genoese  tar- 
tane) knew  a  smattering  of  all  the  tongues  spoken  on  the 
shores  of  that  large  lake  called  the  Mediterranean,  from 
the  Arabic  to  the  Provencal;  and  this,  while  it  spared  him 
interpreters,  persons  always  troublesome  and  frequently  in- 
discreet, gave  him  great  facilities  of  communication,  either 
with  the  vessels  he  met  at  sea,  with  the  small  barks  sailing 
along  the  coast,  or  with  those  persons  without  name, 
country,  or  apparent  calling,  who  are  always  seen  on  the 
quays  of  seaports,  and  who  live  by  those  hidden  and  mys- 
terious means  which  we  must  suppose  come  in  a  right  line 
from  Providence,  as  they  have  no  visible  means  of  exist- 
ence. We  may  thus  suppose  that  Dantes  was  on  board  a 


In  the  first  instance  the  master  had  received  Dantes  on 
board  with  a  certain  degree  of  mistrust.  He  was  very 
well  known  to  the  custom-house  officers  of  the  coast;  and  as 
there  was  between  these  worthies  and  himself  anexchauge 


206  THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  ORI8TO. 

of  the  most  cunning  stratagems  he  had  at  first  thought 
that  Dantes  might  be  an  emissary  of  these  illustrious  ex- 
ecutors of  rights  and  duties,  who  employed  this  ingenius 
means  of  penetrating  some  of  the  secrets  of  his  trade.  But 
the  skillful  manner  in  which  Dantes  had  maneuvered  the 
the  little  bark  had  entirely  reassured  him;  and  then,  when 
he  saw  the  light  smoke  floating  like  a  plume  above  the 
bastion  of  the  Chateau  d'lf  and  heard  the  distant  explo- 
sion, he  was  instantly  struck  with  the  idea  that  he  had  on 
board  his  vessel  one  for  whom,  like  the  goings  in  and 
comings  out  of  kings,  they  accord  salutes  of  cannons.  This 
made  him  less  uneasy,  it  must  be  owned,  than  if  the  new- 
comer had  proved  a  custom-house  officer;  but  this  latter 
supposition  also  disappeared,  like  the  first,  when  he  beheld 
the  perfect  tranquillity  of  his  recruit. 

Edmond  thus  had  the  advantage  of  knowing  what  the 
owner  was  without  the  owner  knowing  who  he  was;  and 
however  the  old  sailor  and  his  crew  tried  to  "  pump " 
him,  they  extracted  nothing  more  from  him;  giving  accu- 
rate descriptions  of  Naples  and  Malta,  which  he  knew  as 
well  as  Marseilles,  and  persisting  stoutly  in  his  first  state- 
ment. Thus  the  Genoese,  subtle  as  he  was,  was  duped  by 
Edmond,  in  whose  favor  his  mild  demeanor,  his  nautical 
skill  and  his  admirable  dissimulation  pleaded.  Moreover, 
it  is  possible  that  the  Genoese  was  one  of  those  shrewd 
persons  who  know  nothing  but  what  they  should  know  and 
believe  nothing  but  what  they  should  believe. 

It  was  thus  in  this  reciprocal  position  that  they  reached 
Leghorn.  Here  Edmoud  was  to  undergo  another  trial; 
it  was  to  see  if  he  should  recognize  himself,  never  having 
beheld  his  own  features  for  fourteen  years.  He  had  pre- 
served a  tolerably  good  remembrance  of  what  the  youth 
had  been,  and  was  now  to  find  what  the  man  had  become. 
His  comrades  believed  that  his  vow  was  fulfilled,  as  he  had 
twenty  times  touched  at  Leghorn  before  he  remembered  a 
barber  in  the  Rue  Saint-Ferdinand.  He  went  there  to 
have  his  beard  and  hair  cut.  The  barber  gazed  in  amaze- 
ment at  this  man  with  the  long  hair  and  beard,  thick  and 
black  as  it  was,  and  resembling  one  of  Titian's  glorious 
heads.  At  this  period  it  was  not  the  fashion  to  wear  so 
large  a  beard  and  hair  so  long;  now  a  barber  would  only 
be  surprised  if  a  man  gifted  with  such  advantages  should 
consent  voluntarily  to  deprive  himself  of  them.  The  Leg- 
horn barber  went  to  work  without  a  single  observation. 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRI8TO.  207 

When  the  operation  was  concluded,  when  Edmond  felt 
his  chin  was  completely  smooth  and  his  hair  reduced  to  its 
usual  length,  he  requested  a  looking-glass  in  which  he 
might  see  himself.  He  was  now,  as  we  have  said,  33 
years  of  age,  and  his  fourteen  years'  imprisonment  had 
produced  a  great  moral  change  in  his  appearance.  Dante's 
had  entered  the  Chateau  d'lf  with  the  round,  open,  smil- 
ing face  of  a  young  and  happy  man,  with  whom  the  early 
paths  of  life  have  been  smooth  and  who  relies  on  the  future 
as  a  natural  deduction  of  the  past.  This  was  now  all 
changed.  His  oval  face  was  lengthened,  his  smiling 
mouth  had  assumed  the  firm  and  marked  lines  which  be- 
token resolution;  his  eyebrows  were  arched  beneath  a 
large  and  thoughtful  wrinkle;  his  eyes  were  full  of  melan- 
choly, and  from  their  depths  occasionally  sparkled  gloomy 
fires  of  misanthropy  and  hatred;  his  complexion,  so  long" 
kept  from  the  sun,  had  now  that  pale  color  which  pro- 
duces when  the  features  are  encircled  with  black  hair  the 
aristocratic  beauty  of  the  man  of  the  north;  the  deep 
learning  he  had  acquired  had  besides  diffused  over  his 
features  the  rays  of  extreme  intellect;  and  he  had  also 
acquired,  although  previously  a  tall  man,  that  vigor  which 
a  frame  possesses  which  has  so  long  concentrated  all  its 
force  within  itself. 

To  the  elegance  of  a  nervous  and  slight  form  had  suc- 
ceeded the  solidity  of  a  rounded  and  muscular  figure.  As 
to  his  voice,  prayers,  sobs  and  imprecations  had  changed 
it  now  into  a  soft  and  singularly  touching  tone,  and  now 
into  a  sound  rude  and  almost  hoarse.  Moreover,  being 
perpetually  in  twilight  or  darkness  his  eyes  had  acquired 
that  singular  faculty  of  distinguishing  objects  in  the  night 
common  to  the  hyena  and  the  wolf.  Edmond  smiled 
when  he  beheld  himself.  It  was  impossible  that  his  best 
friend— if,  indeed,  he  had  any  friend  left— could  recognize 
him;  he  could  not  recognize  himself. 

The  master  of  La  Jeune  Amelie,  who  was  very  desirous 
of  retaining  among  his  crew  a  man  of  Edmond's  value, 
had  offered  him  some  advances  out  of  his  future  profits, 
which  Edmond  had  accepted.  His  next  care  on  leaving 
the  barber's  who  had  achieved  his  first  metamorphosis  was 
to  enter  a  shop  and  buy  a  complete  sailor's  suit — a  garb,  as 
we  all  know,  very  simple  and  consisting  of  white  trousers, 
a  striped  shirt  and  a  cap.  It  was  in  this  costume  and 


208  THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRI8TO. 

bringing  back  to  Jacopo  the  shirt  and  trousers  he  had  lent 
him  that  Edmond  reappeared  before  the  patron  of  La 
Jeune  Amelia,  who  made  him  tell  his  story  over  and  over 
again  before  he  could  believe  him  or  recognize  in  the  neat 
and  trim  sailor  the  man  with  thick  and  matted  beard,  his 
hair  tangled  with  sea-weed  and  his  body  soaking  in  sea- 
brine  whom  he  had  picked  up  naked  and  nearly  drowned. 
Attracted  by  his  prepossessing  appearance  he  renewed  his 
offers  of  an  engagement  to  Dantes,  but  Dantes,  who  had 
his  own  projects,  would  not  agree  for  a  longer  time  than 
three  months. 

La  Jeune  Amelie  had  a  very  active  crew,  very  obedient 
to  their  captain,  who  lost  as  little  time  as  possible.  He 
had  scarcely  been  a  week  at  Leghorn  before  the  hold  oi 
his  vessel  was  filled  with  painted  muslins,  prohibited  cot- 
tons, English  powder  and  tobacco  on  which  the  crown  had 
forgotten  to  put  its  mark.  The  master  was  to  get  all  this 
out  of  Leghorn  free  of  duties  and  land  it  on  the  shores  of 
Corsica,  where  certain  speculators  undertook  to  forward 
the  cargo  to  France.  They  sailed;  Edmond  was  again 
cleaving  the  azure  sea  which  had  been  the  first  horizon  of 
his  youth  and  which  he  had  so  often  dreamed  of  in  prison. 
He  left  Gorgone  on  his  right  and  La  Pianosa  on  his  left 
and  went  toward  the  country  of  Paoli  and  Napoleon.  The 
next  morning  going  on  deck,  which  he  always  did  at  an 
early  hour,  the  patron  found  Dantes  leaning  against  the 
bulwarks,  gazing  with  intense  eagerness  at  a  pile  of  granite 
rocks  which  the  rising  sun  tinged  with  rosy  light.  It  was 
the  Isle  of  Monte  Cristo.  La  Jeune  Amelie  left  it  three- 
quarters  of  a  league  to  the  larboard  and  kept  on  for 
Corsica. 

Dantes  thought  as  they  passed  thus  closely  the  island 
whose  name  was  so  interesting  to  him  that  he  had  only  to 
leap  into  the  sea  and  in  half  an  hour  he  would  be  on  the 
promised  land.  But,  then,  what  could  he  do  without  in- 
struments to  discover  his  treasure,  without  arms  to  defend 
himself  ?  Besides,  what  would  the  sailors  say?  What 
would  the  patron  think?  He  must  wait. 

Fortunately  Dantes  had  learned  how  to  wait;  he  had 
waited  fourteen  years  for  his  liberty,  and  now  he  was  free 
he  could  wait  at  least  six  months  or  a  year  for  wealth. 
"Would  he  not  have  accepted  liberty  without  riches  if  it 
had  been  offered  to  him?  Besides,  were  not  those  riches 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRI8TO.  209 

chimerical — offspring  of  the  brain  of  the  poor  Abbe  Faria — 
had  they  not  died  with  him?  It  is  true  this  letter  of  the 
Cardinal  Spada  was  singularly  circumstantial,  and  Dante's 
repeated  to  himself  from  one  end  to  the  other  the  letter 
of  which  he  had  not  forgotten  a  word. 

The  evening  came  on,  and  Edmond  saw  the  island  cov- 
ered with  every  tint  that  twilight  brings  with  it  and  dis- 
appear in  the  darkness  from  all  eyes;  but  he  with  his  gaze 
accustomed  to  the  gloom  of  a  prison,  continued  to  see  it 
after  all  the  others,  for  he  remained  last  upon  deck.  The 
next  morn  broke  off  the  coast  of  Aleria;  all  day  they 
coasted,  and  in  the  evening  saw  the  fires  lighted  on  land; 
when  they  were  extinguished,  they  no  doubt  recognized 
the  signals  for  landing,  for  a  ship's  lantern  was  hung  up  at 
the  masthead  instead  of  the  streamer,  and  they  n eared  the 
shore  within  gunshot.  Dant6s  remarked  that  at  this  time, 
too,  the  patron  of  La  Jeune  Amelie  had,  as  he  neared  the 
land,  mounted  two  small  culverines,  which,  without 
making  much  noise,  can  throw  a  ball,  of  four  to  the 
pound,  a  thousand  paces  or  so. 

But  on  this  occasion  the  precaution  was  superfluous,  and 
everything  proceeded  with  the  utmost  smoothness  and 
politeness.  Four  shallops  came  off  with  very  little  noise 
alongside  the  bark,  which,  no  doubt,  in  acknowledgment 
of  the  compliment,  lowered  her  own  shallop  into  the  sea, 
and  the  five  boats  worked  so  well  that  by  2  o'clock  in  the 
morning  all  the  cargo  was  out  of  La  Jeune  Amelie  and  on 
terra  firma.  The  same  night,  such  a  man  of  regularity 
was  the  patron  of  La  Jeune  Amelie,  that  the  profits  were 
shared  out,  and  each  man  had  100  Tuscan  livres,  or  about 
3  guineas  English.  But  the  voyage  was  not  ended.  They 
turned  the  bowsprit  toward  Sardinia,  where  they  intended 
to  take  in  a  cargo,  which  was  to  replace  what  had  been  dis- 
charged. The  second  operation  was  as  successful  as  the 
first;  La  Jeune  Amelie  was  in  luck.  This  new  cargo  was 
destined  for  the  coast  of  the  Duchy  of  Lucca,  and  con- 
sisted almost  entirely  of  Havana  cigars,  sherry  and  Malaga 
wines. 

There  they  had  a  bit  of  skirmish  in  getting  rid  of  the 
duties;  the  gabelle  was,  in  truth,  the  everlasting  enemy  of 
the  patron  of  La  Jeune  Amelie.  A  custom-house  officer 
was  laid  low  and  two  sailors  were  wounded;  Dant^s  was 
one  of  the  latter,  a  ball  having  touched  him  in  the  left 


210  THE  CO  UNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO. 

shoulder.  Dantds  was  almost  glad  of  this  affray,  and 
almost  pleased  at  being  wounded,  for  they  were  rude 
lessons  which  taught  him  with  what  eye  he  could  view 
danger  and  with  what  endurance  he  could  bear  suffering. 
He  had  contemplated  danger  with  a  smile,  and,  when 
wounded,  had  exclaimed,  with  the  great  philosopher: 
"  Pain,  thou  art  not  an  evil."  He  had,  moreover,  looked 
upon  the  custom-house  officer  wounded  to  death,  and, 
whether  from  heat  of  blood,  produced  by  the  rencontre,  or 
the  chill  of  human  sentiment,  this  sight  had  made  but 
slight  impression  upon  him.  Dantes  was  on  the  way  he 
desired  to  follow,  and  was  moving  toward  the  end  he 
wished  to  achieve;  his  heart  was  in  a  fair  way  of  petrifying 
in  his  bosom.  Jacopo,  seeing  him  fall,  had  believed  him 
killed,  and,  rushing  toward  him,  had  raised  him  up,  and 
then  attended  to  him  with  all  the  kindness  of  an  attached 
comrade. 

This  world  was  not,  then,  so  good  as  Volfcaire's  Dr. 
Pangloss  believed  it,  neither  was  it  so  wicked  as  Dantes 
thought  it,  since  this  man,  who  had  nothing  to  expect 
from  his  comrade  but  the  inheritance  of  his  share  of  the 
prize  money,  testified  so  much  sorrow  when  he  saw  him 
fall.  Fortunately,  as  we  have  said,  Edmond  was  only 
wounded,  and,  with  certain  herbs  gathered  at  certain 
seasons  and  sold  to  the  smugglers  by  the  old  Sardinian 
women,  the  wound  soon  closed.  Edmond  then  resolved  to 
try  Jacopo,  and  offered  him  in  return  for  his  attention  a 
share  of  his  prize  money,  but  Jacopo  refused  it  indig- 
nantly. 

It  resulted,  therefore,  from  this  kind  of  sympathetic  de- 
votion which  Jacopo  had  bestowed  on  Edmond  from  the 
first  time  he  saw  him,  that  Edmond  felt  for  Jacopo  a  cer- 
tain degree  of  affection.  But  this  sufficed  for  Jacopo,  who 
already  instinctively  felt  that  Edmond  had  a  right  to 
superiority  of  position — a  superiorty  which  Edmond  had 
concealed  from  all  others.  And  from  this  time  the  kind- 
ness which  Edmond  showed  him  was  enough  for  the  brave 
seaman. 

Then,  in  the  long  days  on  board  ship,  when  the  vessel, 
gliding  on  with  security  over  the  azure  sea,  required  noth- 
ing, thanks  to  the  favorable  winds  that  swelled  her  sails, 
but  the  hand  of  the  helmsman,  Edmond,  with  a  chart  in 
his  hand,  became  the  instructor  of  Jacopo,  as  the  poor 


THE  CO  UNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO.  211 

Abbe  Faria  had  been  his  tutor.  He  pointed  out  to  him 
the  bearings  of  the  coast,  explained  to  him  the  variations 
of  the  compass,  and  taught  him  to  read  in  that  vast  book 
opened  over  our  heads,  which  they  call  heaven  and  where 
God  writes  in  azure  with  letters  of  diamonds.  And  when 
Jacopo  inquired  of  him:  "  What  is  the  use  of  teaching  all 
these  things  to  a  poor  sailor  like  me?"  Edmond  replied: 
"  Who  knows?  You  may  one  day  be  the  captain  of  a 
vessel.  Your  fellow-countryman,  Bonaparte,  became  em- 
peror." 

We  had  forgotten  to  say  that  Jacopo  was  a  Corsican. 

Two  months  and  a  half  elapsed  in  these  trips,  and  Ed- 
mond had  become  as  skillful  a  coaster  as  he  had  been  a 
hardy  seaman;  he  had  formed  an  acquaintance  with  all  the 
smugglers  on  the  coast,  and  learned  all  the  masonic  signs 
by  which  these  half -pirates  recognize  each  other.  He  had 
passed  and  repassed  his  Isle  of  Monte  Cristo  twenty  times, 
but  not  once  had  he  found  an  opportunity  of  landing 
there.  He  then  formed  a  resolution.  This  was,  as  soon 
as  his  engagement  with  the  patron  of  La  Jeune  Amelie 
ended,  he  would  hire  a  small  bark  on  his  own  account — for 
in  his  several  voyages  he  had  amassed  100  piastres — and, 
under  some  pretext,  land  at  the  Isle  of  Monte  Cristo. 
Then  he  would  be  free  to  make  his  researches;  not,  per- 
haps, entirely  at  liberty,  for  he  would  be,  doubtless, 
watched  by  those  who  accompanied  him.  But  in  this 
world  we  must  risk  something.  Prison  had  made  Edmond 
prudent,  and  he  was  desirous  of  runnmg  no  risk  whatever. 
But  in  vain  did  he  rack  his  imagination;  fertile  as  it  was, 
he  could  not  devise  any  plan  for  reaching  the  wished-for 
isle  without  being  accompanied  thither. 

Dantes  was  tossed  about  on  these  thoughts  and  wishes, 
when  the  patron,  who  had  great  confidence  in  him,  and 
was  very  desirous  of  retaining  him  in  his  service,  took  him 
by  the  arm  one  evening  and  led  him  to  a  tavern  on  the 
Via  del'  Oglio,  where  the  leading  smugglers  of  Leghorn 
used  to  congregate.  It  was  here  they  discussed  the  affairs 
of  the  coast.  Already  Dantes  had  visited  this  maritime 
bourse  two  or  three  times,  and  seeing  all  these  hardy  free- 
traders, who  supplied  the  whole  coast  for  nearly  200 
leagues  in  extent,  he  had  asked  himself  what  power  might 
not  that  man  attain  who  should  give  the  impulse  of  his 
will  to  all  these  contrary  and  diverging  links.  This  time 


212  THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO. 

it  was  a  greater  matter  that  was  under  discussion,  con- 
nected with  a  vessel  laden  with  Turkey  carpets,  stuffs  of 
the  Levant  and  cashmeres.  It  was  requisite  to  find  some 
neutral  ground  on  which  an  exchange  could  be  made,  and 
then  to  try  and  land  these  goods  on  the  coast  of  France. 
If  successful  the  profit  would  be  enormous;  there  would  be 
a  gain  of  50  or  60  piastres  each  for  the  crew. 

The  patron  of  La  Jeune  Amelie  proposed  as  a  place  of 
landing  the  Isle  of  Monte  Cristo,  which,  being  completely 
deserted  and  having  neither  soldiers  nor  revenue  officers, 
seemed  to  have  been  placed  in  the  midst  of  the  ocean,  since 
the  time  of  the  heathen  Olympus,  by  Mercury,  the  god  of 
merchants  and  robbers,  classes  which  we,  in  modern  times, 
have  separated,  if  not  made  distinct,  but  which  antiquity 
appears  to  have  included  in  the  same  category.  At  the  men- 
tion of  Monte  Cristo  Dantes  started  with  joy;  he  rose  to  con- 
ceal his  emotion,  and  took  a  turn  round  the  smoky  tavern, 
where  all  the  languages  of  the  known  world  were  jumbled 
in  a  lingua  franca.  When  he  again  joined  the  two  per- 
sons who  had  been  discussing,  it  had  been  decided  that 
they  should  touch  at  Monte  Cristo,  and  set  out  on  the  fol- 
lowing night.  Edmond,  being  consulted,  was  of  opinion 
that  the  island  offered  every  possible  security,  and  that 
great  enterprises  to  be  well  done  should  be  done  quickly. 
Nothing,  then,  was  altered  in  the  plan  arranged,  and 
orders  were  given  to  get  under  way  next  night,  and,  wind 
and  weather  permitting,  to  gain,  the  day  after,  the  waters 
of  the  neutral  isle. 


CHAPTEE  XXIII. 

THE  ISLE  OF  MONTE   ORISTO. 

THUS,  at  length,  by  one  of  those  pieces  of  unlooked-for 
good  fortune,  which  sometimes  occur  to  those  on  whom 
misfortune  has  for  a  long  time  spent  itself,  Dantes  was 
about  to  arrive  at  his  wished-for  opportunity  by  simple  and 
natural  means,  and  laud  on  the  island  without  incurring 
any  suspicion.  One  night  only  separated  him  from  his  de- 
parture so  ardently  wished  for. 

The  night  was  one  of  the  most  feverish  that  Dantes  had 
ever  passed,  and  during  its  progress  all  the  charms,  good 


THE  CO  UNT  OP  MONTE  CRI8TO.  213 

and  evil,  passed  through  his  brain.  If  he  closed  his  eyes 
he  saw  the  letters  of  Cardinal  Spada  written  on  the  wall  in 
characters  of  flame — if  he  slept  for  a  moment  the  wildest 
dreams  haunted  his  brain.  He  descended  into  grottos 
paved  with  emeralds,  with  panels  of  rubies,  and  the  roof 
glowing  with  diamond  stalactites.  Pearls  fell  drop  by  drop, 
as  subterranean  waters  filter  in  their  caves.  Edmond, 
amazed,  wonderstruck,  filled  his  pockets  with  the  radiant 
gems  and  then  returned  to  daylight,  when  he  discovered 
that  his  prizes  were  all  converted  into  common  pebbles. 
He  then  endeavored  to  re-enter  these  marvelous  grottoes,  but 
then  beheld  them  only  in  the  distance;  and  now  the  way 
serpentined  into  countless  paths,  and  then  the  entrance  be- 
came invisible,  and  in  vain  did  he  tax  his  memory  for  the 
magic  and  mysterious  word  which  opened  the  splendid 
caverns  of  Ali  Baba  to  the  Arabian  fisherman.  All  was 
useless,  the  treasure  disappeared,  and  had  again  reverted  to 
the  genii  from  whom  for  a  moment  he  had  hoped  to  carry 
it  off.  The  day  came  at  length  and  was  almost  as  feverish 
as  the  night  had  been,  but  it  brought  reason  to  aid  his 
imagination,  and  Dante's  was  then  enabled  to  arrange  a 
plan  which  had  hitherto  been  vague  and  unsettled  in  his 
brain.  Night  came  and  with  it  the  preparation  for  de- 
parture, and  these  preparations  served  to  conceal  Dante's' 
agitation.  He  had  by  degrees  assumed  such  authority  over 
his  companions  that  he  was  almost  like  a  commander  on 
board;  and  as  his  orders  were  always  clear,  distinct  and 
easy  of  execution,  his  comrades  obeyed  him  with  celerity 
and  pleasure. 

The  old  patron  did  not  interfere,  for  he,  too,  had  recog- 
nized the  superiority  of  Dante's  over  the  crew  and  himself. 
He  saw  in  the  young  man  his  natural  successor  and  re- 
gretted that  he  had  not  a  daughter,  that  he  might  have 
bound  Edinond  to  him  by  a  distinguished  alliance.  At  7 
o'clock  in  the  evening  all  was  ready  and  at  7:10  o'clock 
they  doubled  the  lighthouse  just  as  th»  beacon  was  kindled. 
The  sea  was  calm,  and,  with  a  fresh  breeze  from  the  south- 
east, they  sailed  beneath  a  bright  blue  sky,  in  which  God 
also  lighted  up  in  turn  His  beacon-lights,  each  of  which  is 
a  world.  Dantes  told  them  that  all  hands  might  turn  in 
and  he  would  take  the  helm.  When  the  Maltese  (for  so 
they  called  Dante's)  had  said  this,  it  was  sufficient,  and  all 
went  to  their  cots  contentedly.  This  frequently  happened- 

DCJIAS — VOL.  I. — 10 


214  THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO. 

Dantes,  rejected  by  all  the  world,  frequently  experienced  a 
desire  for  solitude;  and  what  solitude  is  at  the  same  time 
more  complete,  more  poetical  than  that  of  a  bark  floating 
isolated  on  the  sea  during  the  obscurity  of  the  night,  in 
the  silence  of  immensity  and  under  the  eye  of  heaven? 

Now  this  solitude  was  peopled  with  his  thoughts,  the 
night  lighted  up  by  his  illusions  and  the  silence  animated 
by  his  anticipations.  When  the  patron  awoke  the  vessel 
was  hurrying  on  with  every  sail  set  and  every  sail  full  with 
the  breeze.  They  were  making  nearly  ten  knots  an  hour. 
The  Isle  of  Monte  Cristo  loomed  large  in  the  horizon. 
Edmond  resigned  the  bark  to  the  master's  care  and  went 
and  lay  down  in  his  hammock;  but,  in  spite  of  a  sleepless 
night,  he  could  not  close  his  eyes  for  a  moment.  Two 
hours  afterward  he  came  on  deck,  as  the  boat  was  about  to 
double  the  Isle  of  Elba.  They  were  just  abreast  of  Mare- 
ciaua  and  beyond  the  flat,  but  verdant  Isle  of  La  Pianosa. 
The  peak  of  Monte  Cristo,  reddened  by  the  burning  sun, 
was  seen  against  the  azure  sky.  Dantes  desired  the  helms- 
man to  put  down  his  helm,  in  order  to  leave  La  Pianosa  on 
the  right  hand,  as  he  knew  that  he  should  thus  decrease 
the  distance  by  two  or  three  knots.  ,  About  5  o'clock  in 
the  evening  the  island  was  quite  distinct,  and  everything 
on  it  was  plainly  perceptible,  owing  to  that  clearness  of  the 
atmosphere  which  is  peculiar  to  the  light  which  the  rays 
of  the  sun  cast  at  its  setting. 

Edmond  gazed  most  earnestly  at  the  mass  of  rocks  which 
gave  out  all  the  variety  of  twilight  colors,  from  the  bright- 
est pink  to  the  deepest  blue;  and  from  time  to  time  his 
cheeks  flushed,  his  brow  became  purple,  and  a  mist  passed 
over  his  eyes.  Never  did  gamester  whose  whole  for- 
tune is  staked  on  one  cast  of  the  dice,  experience  the 
anguish  which  Edmond  felt  in  his  paroxysms  of  hope. 
Night  came,  and  at  10  o'clock  they  anchored.  La 
Jeune  Amelie  was  the  first  at  the  rendezvous.  In  spite  of 
his  usual  command  over  himself  Dantes  could  not  restrain 
his  impetuosity.  He  was  the  first  who  jumped  on  shore; 
and  had  he  dared,  he  would,  like  Lucius  Brutus,  have 
"  kissed  his  mother  earth."  It  was  dark;  but  at  11  o'clock 
the  moon  rose  in  the  midst  of  the  ocean,  whose  every  wave 
she  silvered,  and  then,  "ascending  high,"  played  in  floods 
of  pale  light  on  the  rocky  hills  of  this  second  Pelion. 

The  island  was  familiar  to  the  crew  of  La  Jeune  Amelie, 


THE  CO  UNT  OF  MONTE  VRISTO.  215 

it  was  one  of  her  halting-places.  As  to  Dantes,  he  had 
passed  it  on  his  voyages  to  and  from  the  Levant,  but  never 
touched  at  it.  He  questioned  Jacopo. 

'  Where  shall  we  pass  the  night?"  he  inquired. 

'  Why,  on  board  the  tartane,"  replied  the  sailor. 

*  Should  we  not  be  better  in  the  grottoes ?" 
'What  grottoes?" 

*  Why,  the  grottoes — caves  of  the  island." 

'  I  do  not  know  of  any  grottoes,"  replied  Jacopo. 

A  cold  damp  sprang  to  Dantes'  brow. 
(  What !  are  there  no  grottoes  at  Monte  Cristo  ?"  he  asked. 
'  None." 

For  a  moment  Dantes  was  speechless;  then  he  remem- 
bered that  these  caves  might  have  been  filled  up  by  some 
accident,  or  even  stopped  up,  for  the  sake  of  greater  se- 
curity, by  Cardinal  Spada.  The  point  was,  then,  to  dis- 
cover the  last  opening.  It  was  useless  to  search  at  night 
and  Dantes,  therefore,  delayed  all  investigation  until 
morning.  Besides,  a  signal  made  half  a  league  out  at  sea, 
and  to  which  La  Jeune  Amelie  also  replied  by  a  similar 
signal,  indicated  that  the  moment  had  arrived  for  business. 
The  boat  that  now  arrived,  assured  by  the  answering  signal 
that  all  was  right,  soon  came  in  sight,  white  and  silent  as 
a  phantom,  and  cast  anchor  within  a  cable's  length  of  the 
shore. 

Then  the  landing  began.  Dantes  reflected  as  he  worked 
on  the  shout  of  joy,  which,  with  a  single  word,  he  could 
produce  from  among  all  these  men,  if  he  gave  utterance  to 
the  one  unchanging  thought  that  pervaded  his  heart;  but, 
far  from  disclosing  this  precious  secret,  he  almost  feared 
that  he  had  already  said  too  much,  and  by  his  restlessness 
and  continual  questions,  his  minute  observations  and 
evident  pre-occupation  had  aroused  suspicions.  Fortunately, 
as  regarded  this  circumstance  at  least,  with  him  the  pain- 
ful past  reflected  on  his  countenance  an  indelible  sadness; 
and  the  glimmerings  of  gayety  seen  beneath  this  cloud 
were  indeed  but  transitory. 

No  one  had  the  slightest  suspicion;  and  when,  next  day, 
taking  a  fowling-piece,  powder  and  shot,  Dantes  testified 
a  desire  to  go  and  kill  some  of  the  wild  goats  that  were  seen 
springing  from  rock  to  rock,  his  wish  was  construed  into 
a  love  of  sport,  or  a  desire  for  solitude.  However,  Jacopo 
insisted  on  following  him;  and  Dantes  did  not  oppose  this, 


216  THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRI8TO. 

fearing  if  he  did  so  that  he  might  incur  distrust.  Scarcely, 
however,  had  he  gone  a  quarter  of  a  league  than,  having 
killed  a  kid,  he  begged  Jacopo  to  take  it  to  his  com- 
rades and  request  them  to  cook  it,  and  when  ready  to 
let  him  know  by  firing  a  gun.  This  and  some  dried  fruits 
and  a  flask  of  the  wine  of  Monte  Pulciano  was  the  bill  of 
fare.  Dantes  went  forward,  looking  behind  and  round 
about  him  from  time  to  time.  Having  reached  the  summit 
of  a  rock  he  saw,  a  thousand  feet  beneath  him,  his  com- 
panions, whom  Jacopo  had  rejoined,  and  who  were  all  busy 
preparing  the  repast  which  Edmond's  skill  as  a  marksman 
had  augmented  with  a  capital  dish. 

Edmond  looked  at  them  for  a  moment  with  the  sad  and 
soft  smile  of  a  man  superior  to  his  fellows. 

"In  two  hours'  time,"  said  he,  "these  persons  will 
depart  richer  by  fifty  piastres  each,  to  go  and  risk  their  lives 
again  by  endeavoring  to  gain  fifty  more  such  pieces;  then 
again  they  return  with  a  fortune  of  600  francs,  and  waste  this 
treasure  in  some  city  with  the  pride  of  sultans  and  the  in- 
solence of  nabobs.  At  this  moment  hope  makes  me  despise 
their  riches,  which  seem  to  me  contemptible.  Yet,  per- 
chance, to-morrow  deception  will  so  act  on  me  that  I  shall, 
on  compulsion,  consider  such  a  contemptible  possession  as 
the  utmost  happiness.  Oh,  no  I"  exclaimed  Edmond, 
"  that  will  not  be.  The  wise,  unerring  Faria  could  not  be 
mistaken  in  this  one  thing.  Besides,  it  were  better  to  die 
than  to  continue  to  lead  this  low  and  wretched  life." 

Thus  Dantes,  who  but  three  months  before  had  no 
desire  but  liberty,  had  now  not  liberty  enough,  and  panted 
for  wealth.  The  cause  was  not  in  Dantes,  but  in  Provi- 
dence, who,  while  limiting  the  power  of  man,  has  filled 
him  with  boundless  desires. 

Meanwhile,  by  a  way  between  two  walls  of  rock,  follow- 
ing a  path  worn  by  a  torrent,  and  which,  in  all  human 
probability,  human  foot  had  never  before  trod,  Dautes 
approached  the  spot  where  he  supposed  the  grottoes  must 
have  existed.  Keeping  along  the  coast,  and  examining  the 
smallest  object  with  serious  attention,  he  thought  he  could 
trace  on  certain  rocks  marks  made  by  the  hand  of  man. 

Time-,  which  incrusts  all  physical  substances  with  its 
mossy  mantle,  as  it  invests  all  things  moral  with  its  mantle 
of  forgetfulness,  seemed  to  have  respected  these  signs, 
traced  with  a  certain  regularity,  and  probably  with  the 


THE  CO  UNT  OP  MONTE  CRI8TO.  217 

design  of  leaving  traces.  Occasionally  these  marks  disap- 
peared beneath  tufts  of  myrtle,  which  spread  into  large 
bushes  laden  with  blossoms,  or  beneath  parasitical  lichen. 
It  was  thus  requisite  that  Edmond  should  remove  branches 
on  one  side  or  remove  the  mosses  in  order  to  retrace  the 
indicating  marks  which  were  to  be  his  guides  in  this 
labyrinth.  These  signs  had  renewed  the  best  hopes  in 
Edmond's  mind.  Why  should  it  not  have  been  the  car- 
dinal who  had  first  traced  them,  in  order  that  they  might, 
in  the  event  of  a  catastrophe,  which  he  could  not  foresee 
would  have  been  so  complete,  serve  as  a  guide  for  his  nephew  ? 
This  solitary  place  was  precisely  suited  for  a  man  desirous 
of  burying  a  treasure.  Only,  might  not  these  betraying 
marks  have  attracted  other  eyes  than  those  for  whom  they 
were  made  ?  and  had  the  dark  and  wondrous  isle  indeed 
faithfully  guarded  its  precious  secret  ? 

It  seemed,  however,  to  Edmond,  who  was  hidden  from 
his  comrades  by  the  inequalities  of  the  ground,  that  at 
sixty  paces  from  the  harbor  the  marks  ceased;  nor  did  they 
terminate  at  any  grotto.  A  large  round  rock,  placed 
solidly  on  its  base,  was  the  only  spot  to  which  they  seemed 
to  lead.  Edmond  reflected  that  perhaps  instead  of  having 
reached  the  end  he  might  have  only  touched  on  the  begin- 
ning, and  therefore  turned  round  and  retraced  his  steps. 

During  this  time  his  comrades  had  prepared  the  repast, 
had  got  some  water  from  the  spring,  spread  out  the  fruit 
and  bread  and  cooked  the  kid.  Just  at  the  moment  when 
they  were  taking  the  dainty  animal  from  the  spit  they  saw 
Edmond,  who,  light  and  daring  as  a  chamois,  was  springing 
from  rock  to  rock,  and  they  fired  the  signal  agreed  upon. 
The  sportsman  quickly  changed  his  direction  and  ran 
quickly  toward  them.  But  at  the  moment  when  they  were 
all  following  with  their  eyes  his  agile  bounds  with  a  rash- 
ness which  gave  them  alarm,  Edmond's  foot  slipped,  and 
they  saw  him  stagger  on  the  edge  of  a  rock  and  disappear. 
They  all  rushed  toward  him,  for  all  loved  Edmond  in  spite 
of  his  superiority;  yet  Jacopo  reached  him  first. 

He  found  Edmond  stretched  bleeding  and  almost  sense- 
less. He  had  rolled  down  a  height  of  twelve  or  fifteen 
feet.  They  poured  some  drops  of  rum  down  his  throat, 
and  this  remedy,  which  had  before  been  so  beneficial  to 
him,  produced  the  same  effect  as  formerly.  Edmond 
opened  his  eyes,  complained  of  great  pain  in  his  knee,  a 


218  THE  CO  UNT  OF  MONTE  CRTSTO. 

feeling  of  heaviness  in  his  head  and  severe  pains  in  his 
loins.  They  wished  to  carry  him  to  the  shore,  but  when 
they  touched  him,  although  under  Jacopo's  directions,  he 
declared  with  heavy  moans  that  he  could  not  bear  to  be 
moved. 

It  may  be  supposed  that  Dantes  did  not  think  of  his 
dinner,  but  he  insisted  that  his  comrades,  who  had  not  his 
reasons  for  fasting,  should  have  their  meal.  As  for  him- 
self, he  declared  that  he  had  only  need  of  a  little  rest,  and 
when  they  return  he  should  be  easier.  The  sailors  did 
not  require  much  urging.  They  were  hungry,  and  the 
smell  of  the  roasted  kid  was  very  savory,  and  your  tars  are 
not  very  ceremonious.  An  hour  afterward  they  returned. 
All  that  Edmond  had  been  able  to  do  was  to  drag  himself 
about  a  dozen  paces  forward  to  lean  against  a  moss-grown 
rock. 

But,  far  from  being  easier,  Dantes'  pains  had  ap- 
peared to  increase  in  violence.  The  old  patron,  who  was 
obliged  to  sail  in  the  morning  in  order  to  land  his  cargo  on 
the  frontiers  of  Piedmont  and  France,  between  Nice  and 
Frejus,  urged  Dantes  to  try  and  rise.  Edmond  made  great 
exertions  in  order  to  comply;  but  at  each  effort  he  fell  back, 
moaning  and  turning  pale. 

"  He  has  broken  his  ribs,"  said  the  commander,  in  a  low 
voice.  "  No  matter ;  he  is  an  excellent  fellow,  and  we 
must  not  leave  him.  We  will  try  and  carry  him  on  board 
the  tartane."  Dantes  declared,  however,  that  he  would 
rather  die  where  he  was  than  undergo  the  agony  caused  by 
the  slightest  movement  he  made.  "  Well,"  said  the  patron, 
"  let  what  may  happen,  it  shall  never  be  said  that  we 
deserted  a  good  comrade  like  you.  We  will  not  go  till 
evening."  This  very  much  astonished  the  sailors,  although 
not  one  opposed  it.  The  patron  was  so  strict  that  this  was 
the  first  time  they  had  ever  seen  him  give  up  an  enterprise 
or  even  delay  an  arrangement.  Dantes  would  not  allow 
that  any  such  infraction  of  regular  and  proper  rules  should 
be  made  in  his  favor.  "No,  no,"  he  said  to  the  patron, 
"  I  was  awkward  and  it  is  just  that  I  pay  the  penalty  of  my 
clumsiness.  Leave  me  a  small  supply  of  biscuit,  a  gun, 
powder  and  balls,  to  kill  the  kids  or  defend  myself  at  need, 
and  a  pickax  to  build  me  something  like  a  shed  if  you 
delay  in  coming  back  for  me." 

"  But  you'll  die  of  hunger,"  sain  the  patron. 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO.  219 

"I  would  rather  do  so,"  was  Edmond's  reply,  "than 
suffer  the  inexpressible  agonies  which  the  slightest  motion 
brings  on."  The  patron  turned  toward  his  vessel  which  was 
undulating  in  the  small  harbor,  and,  with  her  sails  partly 
set,  was  ready  for  sea  when  all  her  toilet  should  be  com- 
pleted. 

"  What  are  we  to  do,  Maltese  ?"  asked  the  captain. 
"  We  cannot  leave  you  here  so  and  yet  we  cannot  stay." 

"  Go,  go!"  exclaimed  Dantes. 

"  We  shall  be  absent  at  least  a  week,"  said  the  patron, 
"  and  then  we  must  run  out  of  our  course  to  come  here  and 
take  you  up  again." 

"  Why,"  said  Dantes,  "if  in  two  or  three  days  you  hail 
any  fishing-boat,  desire  them  to  come  here  to  me.  I  will 
pay  twenty-five  piastres  for  my  passage  back  to  Leghorn. 
If  you  do  not  come  across  one  return  for  me."  The  patron 
shook  his  head. 

"Listen,  Capt.  Baldi;  there's  one  way  of  settling  this," 
said  Jacopo.  "  Do  you  go  and  I  will  stay  and  take  care 
of  the  wounded  man." 

"  And  give  up  your  share  of  the  venture,"  said  Edmond, 
"to  remain  with  me?" 

"  Yes,"  said  Jacopo,  "  and  without  any  hesitation." 

"You  are  a  good  fellow  and  a  kind-hearted  messmate," 
replied  Edmond,  "and  heaven  will  recompense  you  for 
your  generous  intentions;  but  I  do  not  wish  any  one  to 
stay  with  me.  A  day  or  two's  rest  will  set  me  up  and  I 
hope  I  shall  find  among  the  rocks  certain  herbs  most  excel- 
lent for  contusions." 

A  singular  smile  passed  over  Dantes'  lips;  he  squeezed 
Jacopo's  hand  warmly;  but  nothing  could  shake  his  deter- 
mination to  remain — and  remain  alone.  The  smugglers 
left  with  Edmond  what  he  had  requested  and  set  sail;  but 
not  without  turning  about  several  times  and  each  time 
making  signs  of  a  cordial  leave-taking,  to  which  Edmond 
replied  with  his  hand  only,  as  if  he  could  not  move  the 
rest  of  his  body.  Then,  when  they  had  disappeared,  he 
said,  with  a  smile:  "  'Tis  strange  that  it  should  be  among 
such  men  that  Ave  find  proofs  of  friendship  and  devotion. 
Then  he  dragged  himself  cautiously  to  the  top  of  'a  rock, 
from  which  he  had  a  full  view  of  the  sea,  and  thence  he 
saw  the  tartane  complete  her  preparations  for  sailing, 
weigh  anchor,  and,  balancing  herself  as  gracefully  as 


220  THE  CO  UNT  OF  MONTE  CRI8TO. 

a  water-fowl  ere  it  takes  to  the  wing,  set  sail.  At  the  end 
of  an  hour  she  was  completely  out  of  sight;  at  least,  it 
was  impossible  for  the  wounded  man  to  see  her  any  longer 
from  the  spot  where  he  was.  Then  Dantes  rose  more  agile 
and  light  than  the  kid  among  the  myrtles  and  shrubs  of 
these  wild  rocks,  took  his  gun  in  one  hand,  his  pickax  in 
the  other  and  hastened  toward  the  rock  on  which  the 
marks  he  had  noted  terminated.  "And  now/'  he  ex- 
claimed, remembering  the  tale  of  the  Arabian  fisherman, 
which  Faria  had  related  to  him,  "now,  open  sesame!" 


CHAPTER  XXIV* 

THE     SECRET    CAVE. 

THE  sun  had  nearly  reached  the  meridian  and  his 
scorching  rays  fell  full  on  the  rocks  which  seemed  them- 
selves sensible  of  the  heat.  Thousands  of  grasshoppers, 
hidden  in  the  bushes,  chirped  with  a  monotonous  and  dull 
note;  the  leaves  of  the  myrtle  and  olive-trees  waved  and 
rustled  in  the  wind.  At  every  step  that  Edmond  took  he 
disturbed  the  lizards  glittering  with  the  hues  of  the  emer- 
ald; afar  off  he  saw  the  wild  goats  bounding  from  crag  to 
crag.  In  a  word,  the  isle  was  inhabited,  yet  Edmond  felt 
himself  alone,  guided  by  the  hand  of  God.  He  felt  an  in- 
describable sensation  somewhat  akin  to  dread — that  dread 
of  the  daylight  which  even  in  the  desert  makes  us  fear  we 
are  watched  and  observed.  This  feeling  was  so  strong  that 
at  the  moment  when  Edmond  was  about  to  commence  his 
labors  he  stopped,  laid  down  his  pickax,  seized  his  gun, 
mounted  to  the  summit  of  the  highest  rock  and  from 
thence  gazed  round  in  every  direction. 

But  it  was  not  upon  Corsica,  the  very  houses  of  which  he 
could  distinguish;  nor  upon  Sardinia; 'nor  upon  the  Isle  of 
Elba,  with  its  historical  associations;  nor  upon  the  almost 
imperceptible  line  that  to  the  experienced  eye  of  a  sailor 
alone  revealed  the  coast  of  Genoa  the  proud  and  Leghorn 
the  commercial,  that  he  gazed.  It  was  at  the  brigantine 
that  had  left  in  the  morning,  and  the  tartaue  that  had  just 
set  sail,  that  Edmond  fixed  his  eyes.  The  first  was  just 
disappearing  in  the  straits  of  Bonifacio;  the  other,  follow- 
ing an  opposite  direction,  was  about  to  round  the  Island  of 


THE  CO UNT  OF  MONTE  CRI8TO.  221 

Corsica.  This  sight  reassured  him.  He  then  looked  at 
the  objects  near  him.  He  saw  himself  on  the  highest 
point  of  the  isle;  a  statue  on  this  vast  pedestal  of  granite, 
nothing  human  appearing  in  sight,  while  the  blue  ocean 
beat  against  the  base  of  the  island  and  covered  it  with  a 
fringe  of  foam.  Then  he  descended  with  cautious  and 
slow  step,  for  he  dreaded  lest  an  accident  similar  to  that 
he  had  so  adroitly  feigned  should  happen  in  reality. 

Dantes,  as  we  have  said,  had  traced  back  the  marks  in 
the  rock;  and  he  had  noticed  that  they  led  to  a  small 
creek,  hidden  like  the  bath  of  some  ancient  nymph.  This 
creek  was  sufficiently  wide  at  its  mouth,  and  deep  in  the 
center,  to  admit  of  the  entrance  of  a  small  vessel  of  the 
speronare  class,  which  would  be  perfectly  concealed  from 
observation. 

Then  following  the  clew  that,  in  the  hands  of  the  Abbe 
Faria,  had  been  so  skillfully  used  to  guide  him  through  the 
Daedalian  labyrinth  of  probabilities,  he  thought  that  the 
Cardinal  Spada,  anxious  not  to  be  watched,  had  entered 
the  creek,  concealed  his  little  bark,  followed  the  line 
marked  by  the  notches  in  the  rock  and  at  the  end  of  it  had 
buried  his  treasure.  It  was  this  idea  that  had  brought 
Dantes  back  to  the  circular  rock.  One  thing  only  per- 
plexed Edmond  and  destroyed  his  theory.  How  could  this 
rock,  which  weighed  several  tons,  have  been  lifted  to  this 
spot  without  the  aid  of  many  men?  Suddenly  an  idea 
flashed  across  his  mind.  Instead  of  raising  it,  thought  he, 
they  have  lowered  it.  And  he  sprang  from  the  rock  in 
order  to  inspect  the  base  on  which  it  had  formerly  stood. 
He  soon  perceived  that  a  slope  had  been  formed  and  the 
rock  had  slid  along  this  until  it  stopped  at  the  spot*  it  now 
occupied.  A  large  stone  had  served  as  a  wedge;  flints  and 
pebbles  had  been  inserted  around  it,  so  as  to  conceal  the 
orifice;  this  species  of  masonry  had  been  covered  with 
earth,  and  grass  and  weeds  had  grown  there,  moss  had 
clung  to  the  stones,  myrtle  bushes  had  taken  root  and  the 
old  rock  seemed  fixed  to  the  earth. 

Dautes  raised  the  earth  carefully,  and  detected,  or 
fancied  he  detected,  the  ingenious  artifice.  He  attacked 
this  wall,  cemented  by  the  hand  of  time,  with  his  pickax. 
After  ten  minutes'  labor  the  wall  gave  way,  and  a  hole 
large  enough  to  insert  the  arm  was  opened.  Dantes  went 
and  cut  the  strongest  olive-tree  he  could  find,  stripped  off 


222  THE  CO  UNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO. 

its  branches,  inserted  it  in  the  hole,  and  used  it  as  a  lever. 
But  the  rock  was  too  heavy  and  too  firmly  wedged  to  be 
moved  by  any  one  man,  were  he  Hercules  himself.  Dantds 
reflected  that  he  must  attack  this  wedge.  But  how? 

He  cast  his  eyes  around,  and  saw  the  horn  full  of  powder 
which  his  friend  Jacopo  had  left  him.  He  smiled;  the 
infernal  invention  would  serve  him  for  this  purpose.  With 
the  aid  of  the  pickax  Dantes  dug  between  the  upper  rock 
and  the  one  that  supported  it  a  mine  similar  to  those 
formed  by  pioneers  when  they  wish  to  spare  human  labor, 
filled  it  with  powder,  then  made  a  match  by  rolling  his 
handkerchief  in  saltpeter.  He  lighted  it  and  retired.  The 
explosion  was  instantaneous;  the  upper  rock  was  lifted 
from  its  base  by  the  terrific  force  of  the  powder;  the  lower 
one  flew  into  pieces;  thousands  of  insects  escaped  from  the 
aperture  Dantes  had  previously  formed,  and  a  huge  snake, 
like  the  guardian  demon  of  the  treasure,  rolled  himself 
along  with  a  sinuous  motion  and  disappeared. 

Dantes  approached  the  upper  rock,  which  now,  without 
any  support,  leaned  toward  the  sea.  The  intrepid  treasure- 
seeker  walked  around  it,  and,  selecting  the  spot  from 
whence  it  appeared  most  easy  to  attack  it,  placed  his 
lever  in  one  of  the  crevices,  and  strained  every  nerve  to 
move  the  mass.  The  rock,  already  shaken  by  the  ex- 
plosion, tottered  on  its  base.  Dantcs  redoubled  his  efforts; 
he  seemed  like  one  of  the  ancient  Titans,  who  uprooted 
the  mountains  to  hurl  against  the  father  of  the  gods.  The 
rock  yielded,  rolled,  bounded,  and  finally  disappeared  in 
the  ocean. 

On  the  spot  it  had  occupied  was  visible  a  circular  place, 
and  which  exposed  an  iron  ring  let  into  a  square  flag- 
stone. Dantes  uttered  a  cry  of  joy  and  surprise;  never  had 
a  first  attempt  been  crowned  with  more  perfect  success. 
He  would  fain  have  continued,  but  his  knees  trembled, 
his  heart  beat  so  violently,  and  his  eyes  became  so  dim, 
that  he  was  forced  to  pause.  This  feeling  lasted  but  for  a 
moment.  Edmond  inserted  his  lever  in  the  ring,  and, 
exerting  all  his  strength,  the  flag-stone  yielded,  and  dis- 
closed a  kind  of  stair  that  descended  until  it  was  lost  in 
the  obscurity  of  a  subterraneous  grotto.  Any  one  else 
would  have  rushed  on  with  a  cry  of  joy.  Dantes  turned 
pale,  hesitated,  and  reflected. 

"Come," said  he,  to  himself,  "be  a  man.     I  amaccus- 


THE  CO  UNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO.  223 

tomed  to  adversity.  I  must  not  be  cast  down  by  the  dis- 
covery that  I  have  been  deceived.  What,  then,  would  be 
the  use  of  all  I  have  suffered  ?  The  heart  breaks  when, 
after  having  been  elated  by  flattering  hopes,  it  sees  all  these 
illusions  destroyed.  Faria  has  dreamed  this;  the  Cardinal 
Spada  buried  no  treasure  here;  perhaps  he  never  came  here, 
or  if  he  did,  Caesar  Borgia,  the  intrepid  adventurer,  the 
stealthy  and  indefatigable  plunderer,  has  followed  him, 
discovered  his  traces,  pursured  them  as  I  have  done,  like 
me,  raised  the  stone,  and,  descending  before  me,  has  left 
me  nothing."  He  remained  motionless  and  pensive,  his 
eyes  fixed  on  the  somber  aperture  that  was  open  at  his 
feet. 

"Now  that  I  expect  nothing,  now  that  I  no  longer 
entertain  the  slightest  hopes,  the  end  of  this  adventure 
becomes  a  simple  matter  of  curiosity/'  And  he  remained 
again  motionless  and  thoughtful. 

"Yes,  yes;  this  is  an  adventure  worthy  a  place  in  the 
lights  and  shades  of  the  life  of  this  royal  bandit.  This 
fabulous  event  has  formed  but  a  link  of  a  vast  chain.  Yes, 
Borgia  has  been  here,  a  torch  in  one  hand,  a  sword  in  the 
other,  while  within  twenty  paces,  at  the  foot  of  this  rock, 
perhaps  two  guards  kept  watch  on  land  and  sea,  while 
their  master  descended,  as  I  am  about  to  descend,  dispell- 
ing the  darkness  before  his  terrible  advance." 

"But  what  was  the  fate  of  these  guards  who  thus  pos- 
sessed his  secret  ?"  asked  Dantes  of  himself. 

"  The  fate,"  replied  he,  smiling,  "  of  those  who  buried 
Alaric." 

"  Yet,  had  he  come,"  thought  Dante's,  "  he  would  have 
found  the  treasure,  and  Borgia,  he  who  compared  Italy 
to  an  artichoke,  which  he  could  devour  leaf  by  leaf,  knew 
too  well  the  value  of  time  to  waste  it  in  replacing  this 
rock.  I  will  go  down." 

Then  he  descended;  a  smile  on  his  lips,  and  murmuring 
that  last  word  of  human  philosophy,  "Perhaps  1"  But 
instead  of  the  darkness  and  the  thick  and  mephitic  atmos- 
phere he  had  expected  to  find,  Dantes  saw  a  dim  and 
bluish  light,  which,  as  well  as  the  air,  entered,  not  merely 
by  the  aperture  he  had  just  formed,  but  by  the  interstices 
and  crevices  of  the  rock  which  were  visible  from  without, 
and  through  which  he  could  distinguish  the  blue  sky  and 
the  waving  branches  of  the  evergreen  oaks  and  the  tendrils 


224  THE  CO  UNT  OF  MONTE  CRI8TO. 

of  the  creepers  that  grew  from  the  rocks.  After  having 
stood  a  few  minutes  in  the  cavern,  the  atmosphere  of  which 
was  rather  warm  than  damp,  Dantes'  eye,  habituated  as 
it  was  to  darkness,  could  pierce  even  to  the  remotest 
angles  of  the  cavern,  which  was  of  granite  that  sparkled 
like  diamonds. 

"  Alas  I"  said  Edmond,  smiling,  "  these  are  the  treasures 
the  cardinal  has  left ;  and  the  good  abbe,  seeing  in  a  dream 
these  glittering  walls,  has  indulged  in  fallacious  hopes.  " 

But  he  called  to  mind  the  words  of  the  will,  which  he 
knew  by  heart:  "In  the  farthest  angle  of  the  second 
opening/'  said  the  cardinal's  will.  He  had  only  found  the 
first  grotto;  he  had  now  to  seek  the  second.  Dante's  com- 
menced his  search.  He  reflected  that  this  second  grotto 
must,  doubtless,  penetrate  deeper  into  the  isle;  he  ex- 
amined the  stones,  and  sounded  one  part  of  the  wall  where 
he  fancied  the  opening  existed,  masked  for  precaution's 
sake.  The  pickax  sounded  for  a  moment  with  a  dull 
sound  that  covered  Dantes'  forehead  with  large  drops  of 
perspiration.  At  last  it  seemed  to  him  that  one  part  of 
the  wall  gave  forth  a  more  hollow  and  deeper  echo ;  he 
eagerly  advanced,  and  with  the  quickness  of  perception 
that  no  one  but  a  prisoner  possesses,  saw  that  it  was  there, 
in  all  probability,  the  opening  must  be. 

However,  he,  like  Caesar  Borgia,  knew  the  value  of  time; 
and,  in  order  to  avoid  a  fruitless  toil,  he  sounded  all  the 
other  walls  with  his  pickax,  he  struck  the  earth  with  the 
butt  of  his  gun,  and,  finding  nothing  that  appeared  sus- 
picious, returned  to  that  part  of  the  wall  whence  issued 
the  consoling  sound  he  had  before  heard.  He  again  struck 
it,  and  with  greater  force.  Then  a  singular  sight  pre- 
sented itself.  As  he  struck  the  wall  a  species  of  stucco 
similar  to  that  used  as  the  ground  of  arabesques  detached 
itself,  and  fell  to  the  ground  in  flakes,  exposing  a  large 
white  stone.  The  aperture  of  the  rock  had  been  closed 
with  stones,  then  this  stucco  had  been  applied,  and  painted 
to  imitate  granite.  Dantes  struck  with  the  sharp  end  of 
his  pickax,  which  entered  some  way  between  the  inter- 
stices of  the  stone.  It  was  there  he  must  dig.  But  by 
some  strange  phenomenon  of  the  human  organization,  in 
proportion  as  the  proofs  that  Faria  had  not  been  deceived 
became  stronger,  so  did  his  heart  give  away,  and  a  feeling 
of  discouragement  steal  over  him.  This  last  proof,  instead 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  ORI8TO.  225 

of  giving  him  fresh  strength,  deprived  him  of  it;  the 
pickax  descended,  or  rather  fell;  he  placed  it  on  the 
ground,  passed  his  hand  over  his  brow,  and  remounted  the 
stairs,  alleging  to  himself,  as  an  excuse,  a  desire  to  be  as- 
sured that  no  one  was  watching  him,  but  in  reality  be- 
cause he  felt  he  was  ready  to  faint.  The  isle  was  deserted, 
and  the  sun  seemed  to  cover  it  with  its  fiery  glance;  afar 
off  a  few  small  fishing-boats  studded  the  bosom  of  the 
blue  ocean. 

Danteshad  tasted  nothing,  but  he  thought  not  of  hunger 
at  such  a  moment ;  he  hastily  swallowed  a  few  drops  oj 
rum  and  again  entered  the  cavern.  The  pickax  that  had 
seemed  so  heavy  was  now  like  a  feather  in  his  grasp;  he 
seized  it  and  attacked  the  wall.  After  several  blows  he 
perceived  that  the  stones  were  not  cemented,  but  merely 
placed  one  upon  the  other  and  covered  with  stucco;  he 
inserted  the  point  of  his  pickax,  and,  using  the  handle  as  a 
lever,  soon  saw  with  joy  the  stone  turn  as  if  on  hinges  and 
fall  at  his  feet.  He  had  nothing  more  to  do  now,  but  with 
the  iron  tooth  of  the  pickax  to  draw  the  stones  toward 
him  -one  by  one.  The  first  aperture  was  sufficiently  large 
to  enter,  but  by  waiting,  he  could  still  cling  to  hope  and 
retard  the  certainty  of  deception.  At  last,  after  fresh 
hesitation,  Dante's  entered  the  second  grotto.  The  second 
grotto  was  lower  and  more  gloomy  than  the  former ;  the 
air  that  could  only  enter  by  the  newly  formed  opening  had 
that  mephitic  smell  Dant£s  was  surprised  not  to  find  in  the 
first.  He  waited  in  order  to  allow  pure  air  to  displace  the 
foul  atmosphere  and  then  entered.  At  the  left  of  the 
opening  was  a  dark  and  deep  angle.  But  to  DanteV  eye 
there  was  no  darkness.  He  glanced  round  this  second 
grotto;  it  was,  like  the  first,  empty. 

The  treasure,  if  it  existed,  was  buried  in  this  corner. 
The  time  had  at  length  arrived;  two  feet  of  earth  removed, 
and  DanteV  fate  would  be  decided.  He  advanced  toward 
the  angle,  and,  summoning  all  his  resolution,  attacked  the 
ground  with  the  pickax.  At  the  fifth  or  sixth  blow  the 
pickax  struck  against  an  iron  substance.  Never  did 
funeral  knell,  never  did  alarm-bell  produce  greater  effect 
on  the  hearer.  Had  Dantes  found  nothing  he  could  not 
have  become  more  ghastly  pale.  He  again  struck  his 
pickax  into  the  earth  and  encountered  the  same  resist- 
ance, but  not  the  same  sound.  "It  is  a  casket  of  wood 


226  THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO. 

bound  with  iron,"  thought  he.  At  this  moment  a  shadow 
passed  rapidly  before  the  opening;  Dantes  seized  his  gun, 
sprang  through  the  opening,  and  mounted  the  stair.  A 
wild  goat  had  passed  before  the  mouth  of  the  cave  and 
was  feeding  at  a  little  distance.  This  would  have  been  a 
favorable  occasion  to  secure  his  dinner;  but  Dantes  feared 
lest  the  report  of  his  gun  should  attract  attention. 

He  reflected  an  instant,  but  a  branch  of  a  resinous  tree, 
lighted  it  at  the  fire  at  which  the  smugglers  had  pre- 
pared their  breakfast,  and  descended  with  this  torch.  He 
wished  to  see  all.  He  approached  the  hole  he  had  formed 
with  the  torch,  and  saw  that  his  pickax  had  in  reality 
struck  against  iron  and  wood.  He  planted  his  torch  in 
the  ground  and  resumed  his  labor.  In  an  instant  a  space 
three  feet  long  by  two  feet  broad  was  cleared,  and  Dantes 
could  see  the  oaken  coffer,  bound  with  cut  steel ;  in  the 
midst  of  the  lid  he  saw  engraved  on  a  silver  plate,  which 
was  still  untarnished,  the  arms  of  the  Spada  family — viz., 
asword,p«fe,  on  an  oval  shield,  like  all  the  Italian  armorial 
bearings,  and  surmounted  by  a  cardinal's  hat ;  Dantes 
easily  recognized  them,  Faria  had  so  often  drawn  them  for 
him.  There  was  no  longer  any  doubt  the  treasure  was  there; 
no  one  would  have  been  at  such  pains  to  conceal  an  empty 
casket.  In  an  instant  he  had  cleared  every  obstacle  away, 
and  he  saw  successively  the  lock  placed  between  two  pad- 
locks, and  the  two  handles  at  each  end,  all  carved  as  things 
were  carved  at  that  epoch,  when  art  rendered  the  common- 
est metals  precious.  Dantes  seized  the  handles  and  strove 
to  lift  the  coffer;  it  was  impossible.  He  sought  to  open 
it;  lock  and  padlock  were  closed;  these  faithful  guardians 
seemed  unwilling  to  surrender  their  trust.  Dantes  in- 
serted the  sharp  end  of  the  pickax  between  the  coffer  and 
the  lid,  and,  pressing  with  all  his  force  on  the  handle,  burst 
open  the  fastenings.  The  hinges  yielded  in  their  turn  and 
fell,  still  holding  in  their  grasp  fragments  of  the  planks, 
and  all  was  open. 

A  vertigo  seized  Edmond;  he  cocked  his  gun  and  laid  it 
beside  him.  He  then  closed  his  eyes  as  children  do  in 
order  to  perceive  in  shining  night  of  their  own  imagination 
more  stars  than  are  visible  in  the  firmament;  then  he  re- 
opened them,  and  stood  motionless  with  amazement. 
Three  compartments  divided  the  coffer.  In  the  first 
blazed  piles  of  golden  coin;  in  the  second,  bars  of  un- 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRI8TO.  227 

polished  gold,  which  possessed  nothing  attractive  save 
their  value,  were  ranged;  in  the  third,  Edmond  grasped 
handfuls  of  diamonds,  pearls,  and  rubies,  which,  as  they 
fell  on  one  another,  sounded  like  hail  against  glass.  After 
having  touched,  felt,  examined  these  treasures,  Edmond 
rushed  through  the  caverns  like  a  man  seized  with  frenzy; 
he  leaped  on  a  rock,  from  whence  he  could  behold  the  sea. 
He  was  alone.  Alone  with  these  countless,  these  un- 
heard-of treasures!  Was  he  awake,  or  was  it  but  a  dream? 

He  would  fain  have  gazed  upon  his  gold,  and  yet  he  had 
not  strength  enough;  for  an  instant  he  leaned  his  head  in 
his  hands  as  if  to  prevent  his  senses  from  leaving  him,  and 
then  rushed  madly  about  the  rocks  of  Monte  Cristo,  terri- 
fying the  wild  goats  and  scaring  the  sea-fowls  with  his  wild 
cries  and  gestures;  then  he  returned,  and,  still  unable  to  be- 
lieve the  evidence  of  his  senses,  rushed  into  the  grotto,  and 
found  himself  before  this  mine  of  gold  and  jewels.  This 
time  he  fell  on  his  knees,  and,  clasping  his  hands  convul- 
sively, uttered  a  prayer  intelligible  to  God  alone.  He  soon 
felt  himself  calmer  and  more  happy,  for  now  only  he  began 
to  credit  his  felicity.  He  then  set  himself  to  work  to 
count  his  fortune.  There  were  1,000  ingots  of  gold,  each 
weighing  from  two  to  three  pounds;  then  he  piled  up  25,000 
crowns,  each  worth  about  £4,  and  bearing  the  effigies  of 
Alexander  VI  and  his  predecessors;  and  he  saw  that  the  com- 
partment was  not  half  empty.  And  he  measured  ten  double 
handfuls  of  the  precious  stones,  many  of  which,  mounted  by 
the  most  famous  workmen,  were  valuable  for  their  execution, 
Dantes  saw  the  light  gradually  disappear  ;  and,  fearing  to 
be  surprised  in  the  cavern,  left  it,  his  gun  in  his  hand.  A 
piece  of  biscuit  and  a  small  quantity  of  rum  formed  his 
supper,  and  he  snatched  a  few  hours'  sleep,  lying  over  the 
mouth  of  the  cave. 

This  night  was  one  of  those  delicious  and  yet  terrible 
ones,  of  which  he  had  already  passed  two  or  three  in  his 
lifetime. 


CHAPTER  XXV. 

THE      UNKNOWN. 

DAYLIGHT,  for  which  Dantes  had  so  eagerly  and  impa- 
tiently waited,  agaiu  dawned  upon  the  desert  shores  of 


228  THE  CO  UNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO. 

Monte  Cristo.  With  the  first  dawn  of  day  Dant£s  resumed 
his  researches.  Again  he  climbed  the  rocky  height  he  had 
ascended  the  previous  evening,  and  strained  his  view  to 
catch  every  peculiarity  of  the  landscape  ;  but  it  wore  the 
same  wild,  barren  aspect  when  seen  by  the  rays  of  the  morn- 
ing sun  which  it  had  done  when  surveyed  by  the  fading 
glimmer  of  eve.  Returning  to  the  entrance  of  the  cave,  he 
raised  the  stone  that  covered  it;  and,  descending  to  the  place 
that  contained  the  treasure,  filled  his  pockets  with  precious 
stones,  put  the  box  together  as  well  and  securely  as  he 
Could,  sprinkled  fresh  sand  over  the  spot  from  which  it 
had  been  taken,  and  there  carefully  trod  down  the  ground 
to  give  it  everywhere  a  similar  appearance;  then,  quitting 
the  grotto,  he  replaced  the  stone,  heaping  on  it  broken 
masses  of  rock  and  rough  fragments  of  crumbling  granite, 
filling  the  interstices  with  earth,  into  which  was  skillfully 
mingled  a  quantity  of  rapidly  growing  plants,  such  as  wild 
myrtle  and  flowering  thorn;  then  carefully  watering  these 
new  plantations,  he  scrupulously  effaced  every  trace  of 
footmarks,  leaving  the  approach  to  the  cavern  as  savage- 
looking  and  untrodden  as  he  had  found  it.  This  done,  he 
impatiently  awaited  the  return  of  his  companions.  To 
wait  at  Monte  Cristo  for  the  purpose  of  watching  over  the 
almost  incalculable  riches  of  his  heart  that  had  thus 
fallen  into  his  possession  satisfied  not  the  cravings  of  his 
heart,  which  yearned  to  return  to  dwell  among  mankind, 
and  to  assume  the  rank,  power,  and  influence  unbounded 
wealth  alone  can  bestow. 

On  the  sixth  day  the  smugglers  returned.  From  a  dis- 
tance Dantes  recognized  the  cut  and  manner  of  sailing  of 
La  Jeune  Amelie,  and,  dragging  himself  with  affected  diffi- 
culty toward  the  landing-place,  he  met  his  companions 
with  an  assurance  that,  although  considerably  better  than 
when  they  quitted  him,  he  still  suffered  acutely  from  his 
late  accident.  He  then  inquired  how  they  had  fared  in 
their  trip.  To  this  question  the  smugglars  replied  that, 
although  successful  in  landing  their  cargo  in  safety,  they 
had  scarcely  done  so  when  they  received  intelligence  that 
ft  guard-ship  had  just  quitted  the  port  of  Toulon,  and  was 
crowding  all  sail  toward  them;,  this  obliged  them  to  make 
all  the  speed  they  could  to  evade  the  enemy;  when  they 
could  but  lament  the  absence  of  Dantcis,  whose  superior 
skill  in  the  management  of  a  vessel  would  have  availed 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CBI8TO.  229 

them  so  materially.  In  fact,  the  chasing  vessel  had 
almost  overtaken  them  when  fortunately  night  came  on, 
and  enabled  them  to  double  the  Cape  of  Corsica,  and  so 
elude  all  further  pursuit.  Upon  the  whole,  however,  the 
trip  had  been  sufficiently  successful  to  satisfy  all  con- 
cerned; while  the  crew,  and  particularly  Jacopo,  expressed 
great  regrets  at  Dantes  not  having  been  an  equal  sharer 
with  themselves  in  the  profits,  amounting  to  no  less  a 
sum  than  50  piastres  each. 

Edmond  preserved  the  most  admirable  self-command, 
not  suffering  the  faintest  indication  of  a  smile  to  escape 
him  at  the  enumeration  of  all  the  benefits  he  would  have 
reaped  had  he  been  able  to  quit  the  isle;  but  as  La  Jeune 
Amelie  had  merely  come  to  Monte  Cristo  to  fetch  him 
away,  tie  embarked  that  same  evening,  and  proceeded  with 
the  captain  to  Leghorn.  Arrived  at  Leghorn,  he  repaired 
to  the  house  of  a  Jew,  a  dealer  in  precious  stones,  to  whom 
he  disposed  of  four  of  his  smallest  diamonds  for  5,OOG 
francs  each.  Dautes  half  feared  that  such  valuable  jewels 
in  the  hands  of  a  poor  sailor  like  himself  might  excite  sus- 
picion; but  the  cunning  purchaser  asked  no  troublesome 
questions  concerning  a  bargain  by  which  he  gained  at  least 
4,000  francs. 

The  following  day  Dantes  presented  Jacopo  with  an 
entirely  new  vessel,  accompanying  the  gift  by  a  donation 
of  100  piastres,  that  he  might  provide  himself  with  a 
suitable  crew  and  other  requisites  for  his  outfit,  upon  con- 
ditions of  his  going  direct  to  Marseilles  for  the  purpose  of 
inquiring  after  an  old  man  named  Louis  Dantes,  residing 
in  the  Alices  de  Meillan,  and  also  a  young  female  called 
Mercedes,  an  inhabitant  of  the  Catalan  village.  Jacopo 
could  scarcely  believe  his  senses  at  receiving  this  munifi- 
cent present,  which  Dantes  hastened  to  account  for  by 
saying  that  he  had  merely  been  a  sailor  from  whim  and  a 
desire  to  spite  his  friends,  who  did  not  allow  him  as  much 
money  as  he  liked  to  spend;  but  that  on  his  arrival  at  Leg- 
horn he  had  come  into  possession  of  a  large  fortune,  left 
him  by  an  uncle,  whose  sole  heir  he  was.  The  superior 
education  of  Dantes  gave  an  air  of  such  extreme  proba- 
bility to  this  statement  that  it  never  once  occurred  to 
Jacopo  to  doubt  its  accuracy.  The  term  for  which  Ed- 
mond had  engaged  to  serve  on  board  La  Jeune  Am61ie 
having  expired,  Dantes  took  leave  of  the  captain,  who  at 


230  THE  CO  UNT  OF  MONTE  CRI82  0. 

first. tried  all  his  powers  of  persuasion  to  induce  him  to  re- 
main one  of  the  crew,  but,  having  been  told  the  history  of 
the  legacy,  he  ceased  to  importune  him  further.  The  suc- 
ceeding morning  Jacopo  set  sail  for  Marseilles,  with  direc- 
tions from  Dantes  to  join  him  at  the  Island  of  Monte 
Cristo. 

Having  seen  Jacopo  fairly  out  of  the  harbor,  Dantes 
proceeded  to  make  his  final  adieus  on  board  La  Jeune 
Amelie,  distributing  so  liberal  a  gratuity  among  her  crew 
as  procured  him  the  unanimous  good  wishes  and  expres- 
sions of  cordial  interest  in  all  that  concerned  him;  to  the 
captain  he  promised  to  write  when  he  had  made  up  his 
mind  as  to  his  future  plans;  this  leave-taking  over,  Dantes 
departed  for  Genoa.  At  the  moment  of  his  arrival  a 
small  yacht  was  being  tried  in  the  bay;  this  yacht  had 
been  built  by  order  of  an  Englishman,  who,  having  heard 
that  the  Genoese  excelled  all  other  builders  along  the 
shores  of  the  Mediterranean  in  the  construction  of  fast- 
sailing  vessels,  was  desirous  of  possessing  a  specimen  of 
their  skill;  the  price  agreed  upon  between  the  Englishman 
and  the  Genoese  builder  was  40,000  francs.  Dantes, 
struck  with  the  beauty  and  capability  of  the  little  vessel, 
applied  to  its  owner  to  transfer  it  to  him,  offering  60,000 
francs,  upon  condition  of  being  allowed  to  take  immediate 
possession  of  it.  The  proposal  was  too  advantageous  to 
be  refused,  the  more  so  as  the  person  for  whom  the  yacht 
was  intended  had  gone  upon  a  tour  through  Switzerland, 
and  was  not  expected  back  in  less  than  three  weeks  or  a 
month,  by  which  time  the  builder  reckoned  upon  being  able 
to  complete  another.  A  bargain  was  therefore  struck. 
Dantds  led  the  owner  of  the  yacht  to  the  dwelling  of  a 
Jew;  retired  with  the  latter  individual  for  a  few  minutes 
to  a  small  back  parlor,  and  upon  their  return  from  thence 
the  Jew  counted  out  to  the  ship-builder  the  sum  of  60,000 
francs  in  bright  golden  money. 

The  delighted  builder  then  offered  his  services  in  pro- 
viding a  suitable  crew  for  the  little  vessel,  but  this  Dantes 
declined  with  many  thanks,  saying  he  was  accustomed  to 
cruise  about  quite  alone,  and  his  principal  pleasure  con- 
sisted in  managing  his  yacht  himself  :  the  only  thing  the 
builder  could  oblige  him  in  would  be  to  contrive  a  sort  of 
secret  closet  in  the  cabin  at  his  bed's  head,  the  closet  to 
contain  three  divisions,  so  constructed  as  to  be  concealed 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRI8TO.  231 

from  all  but  himself.  The  builder  cheerfully  undertook 
the  commission,  and  promised  to  have  these  secret  places 
completed  by  the  next  day,  Dantes  furnishing  the  size  and 
plan  upon  which  he  desired  they  should  be  arranged. 

The  following  day  Dant&s  sailed  with  his  yacht  from  the 
port  of  Genoa  amid  the  gaze  of  an  immense  crowd  drawn 
together  by  curiosity  to  see  the  rich  Spanish  nobleman  who 
preferred  managing  his  vessel  himself.  But  their  wonder 
was  soon  changed  to  admiration  at  the  perfect  skill  with 
which  Dantes  handled  the  helm,  and,  without  quitting  it, 
making  his  little  vessel  perform  every  movement  he  chose 
to  direct;  his  bark  seemed,  indeed,  replete  with  all  but 
human  intelligence,  so  promptly  did  it  obey  the  slightest 
impulse  given;  and  Dantes  required  but  a  short  trial 
of  his  beautiful  craft  to  acknowledge  that  it  was  not 
without  truth  the  Genoese  had  attained  their  high 
reputation  in  the  art  of  ship-building.  The  spectators 
followed  the  little  vessel  with  their  eyes  so  long  as  it  re- 
mained visible ;  they  then  turned  their  conjectures  upon 
her  probable  destination.  Some  insisted  she  was  making 
for  Corsica,  others  the  Isle  of  Elba ;  bets  were  offered  to 
any  amount  that  she  was  bound  for  Spain  ;  while  Africa 
was  positively  reported  by  many  persons  as  her  intended 
course  ;  but  no  one  thought  of  Monte  Oristo.  Yet  thither 
it  was  that  Dantes  guided  his  vessel,  and  at  Monte  Cristo 
he  arrived  at  the  close  of  the  second  day ;  his  bark  had 
proved  herself  a  first-class  sailer,  and  had  come  the  distance 
from  Genoa  in  thirty-five  hours.  Dantes  had  carefully 
noted  the  general  appearance  of  the  shore,  and,  instead  of 
landing  at  the  usual  place,  he  dropped  anchor  in  the  little 
creek.  The  isle  was  utterly  deserted,  nor  did  it  seem  as 
though  human  foot  had  trodden  on  it  since  he  quitted  it ; 
his  treasure  was  just  as  he  had  left  it.  Early  on  the  fol- 
lowing morning  he  commenced  the  removal  of  his  riches, 
and  ere  nightfall  the  whole  of  his  immense  wealth  was 
safely  deposited  in  the  secret  compartments  of  his  hidden 
closet. 

A  week  passed  by.  Dantes  employed  it  in  maneuvering 
his  yacht  round  the  island,  studying  it  as  a  skillful  horse- 
man would  the  animal  he  destined  for  some  important  ser- 
vice, till  at  the  end  of  that  time  he  was  perfectly  conversant 
with  its  good  and  bad  qualities.  The  former  Dantes  pro- 
posed to  augment,  the  latter  to  remedy, 


232  THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CR18TO. 

Upon  the  eighth  day  of  his  being  on  the  island  he  dis- 
cerned a  small  vessel  crowding  all  sail  toward  Monte  Cristo. 
As  it  neared,  he  recognized  it  as  the  bark  he  had  given  to 
Jacopo.  He  immediately  signaled  it.  His  gnalsi  was 
returned,  and  in  two  hours  afterward  the  bark  lay  at 
anchor  beside  the  yacht.  A  mournful  answer  awaited  each 
of  Edmond's  eager  inquiries  as  to  the  information  Jacopo 
had  obtained.  Old  Dantes  was  dead  and  Mercedes  had 
disappeared.  Dantes  listened  to  these  melancholy  tidings 
with  outward  calmness ;  but,  leaping  lightly  ashore,  he 
signified  his  desire  to  be  quite  alone.  In  a  couple  of  hours 
he  returned.  Two  of  the  men  from  Jacopo's  bark  came  on 
board  the  yacht  to  assist  in  navigating  it,  and  he  com- 
manded she  should  be  steered  direct  to  Marseilles.  For  his 
father's  death  he  was  in  some  manner  prepared ;  but  how 
to  account  for  the  mysterious  disappearance  of  Mercedes 
he  knew  not. 

Without  divulging  his  secret  Dantes  could  not  give 
sufficiently  clear  instructions  to  an  agent.  There  were, 
besides,  other  particulars  he  was  desirous  of  ascertaining, 
and  those  were  of  a  nature  he  alone  could  investigate  in  a 
manner  satisfactory  to  himself.  His  looking-glass  had 
assured  him,  during  his  stay  at  Leghorn,  that  he  ran  no 
risk  of  recognition  ;  added  to  which,  he  had  now  the  means 
of  adopting  any  disguise  he  thought  proper.  One  fine 
morning,  then,  his  yacht,  followed  by  the  little  bark,  boldly 
entered  the  port  of  Marseilles  and  anchored  exactly 
opposite  the  memorable  spot  from  whence,  on  the  never- 
to-be-forgotten  night  of  his  departure  for  the  Chdteau  d'lf, 
he  had  been  put  on  board  the  vessel  destined  to  convey 
him  thither. 

Still  Dantes  could  not  view  without  a  shudder  the  ap- 
proach of  a  gendarme  who  accompanied  the  officers  de- 
puted to  demand  his  bill  of  health  ere  the  yacht  was  per- 
mitted to  hold  communication  with  the  shore ;  but  with 
that  perfect  self-possession  he  had  acquired  during  his 
acquaintance  with  Faria,  Dantes  coolly  presented  an  En- 
glish passport  he  had  obtained  from  Leghorn,  and,  with 
that  prompt  attention  which  all  such  English  documents 
receive,  he  was  informed  there  existed  no  obstacle  to  his 
immediate  debarkation. 

The  first  object  that  attracted  the  attention  of  Dantes,  as 
he  landed  on  the  Canebiere,  was  one  of  the  crew  belonging 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CEI8TO.  233 

co  the  Pharaon.  Edmond  hailed  the  appearance  of  this 
man,  who  had  served  under  himself,  as  a  sure  test  of  the 
safe  and  perfect  change  time  had  worked  in  his  own  ap- 
pearance. Going  straight  toward  him,  he  commenced  a 
variety  of  questions  on  different  subjects,  carefully  watch- 
ing the  man's  countenance  as  he  did  so  ;  but  not  a  word 
or  look  implied  his  having  the  slightest  idea  of  ever  having 
seen  before  the  individual  with  whom  he  was  then  con- 
versing. Giving  the  sailor  a  piece  of  money  in  return  for 
his  civility,  Dantes  proceeded  onward  ;  but  ere  he  had 
gone  many  steps  he  heard  the  man  loudly  calling  him  to 
stop.  Dantes  instantly  turned  to  meet  him. 

"  I  beg  your  pardon,  sir/'  said  the  honest  fellow,  in  al- 
most breathless  haste,  "  but  I  believe  you  made  a  mistake  ; 
you  intended  to  give  me  a  two-franc  piece,  and  see,  you 
gave  me  a  double  Napoleon. " 

"Thank  you,  my  good  friend.  I  see  that  I  have  made 
a  trifling  mistake,  as  you  say ;  but  by  way  of  rewarding 
your  honest  spirit  I  give  you  another  double  Napoleon, 
that  you  may  drink  to  my  health  and  be  able  to  ask  your 
messmates  to  join  you." 

So  extreme  was  the  surprise  of  the  sailor  that  he  was 
unable  even  to  thank  Edmond,  whose  receding  figure  he 
continued  to  gaze  after  in  speechless  astonishment.  At 
length,  when  Dantes  had  wholly  disappeared,  he  drew  a 
deep  breath,  and,  with  another  look  at  his  gold,  he  re- 
turned to  the  quay,  saying  to  himself  : 

"Ah,  that's  one  of  them  nabob  gentlemen  from  Ingy,  no 
doubt ;  nobody  else  could  afford  to  chuck  gold  about  like 
that.  Well,  he  said  I  was  to  drink  his  health,  and  so  I 
will  with  all  my  heart." 

Dantes,  meanwhile,  continued  his  route.  Each  step  he 
trod  oppressed  his  heart  with  fresh  emotion  ;  his  first  and 
most  indelible  recollections  were  there  ;  not  a  tree,  not  a 
street  that  he  passed  but  seemed  filled  with  dear  and  cher- 
ished reminiscences.  And  thus  he  proceeded  onward  till 
he  arrived  at  the  end  of  the  Rue  de  Noailles,  from  whence 
a  full  view  of  the  Alices  de  Meillan  was  obtained.  At  this 
spot,  so  pregnant  with  fond  and  filial  remembrances,  his 
heart  beat  almost  to  bursting,  his  knees  tottered  under 
him,  a  misty  vapor  floated  over  his  sight,  and  had  he  not 
clung  for  support  to  one  of  the  trees  he  would  inevitably 
have  fallen  to  the  ground  and  been  crushed  beneath  the 


234  THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO. 

many  vehicles  continually  passing  there.  Kecovering  him- 
self, however,  he  wiped  the  perspiration  from  his  brow, 
and  stopped  not  again  till  he  found  himself  at  the  door  of 
the  house  in  which  his  father  had  lived. 

The  nasturtiums  and  other  plants,  which  his  parent  had 
delighted  to  train  before  his  window,  had  all  disappeared 
from  the  upper  part  of  the  house.  Leaning  against  a  tree, 
he  remained  long  gazing  on  those  windows  at  which  the 
busy  hand  of  the  active  old  man  might  be  daily  seen  train- 
ing and  arranging  his  floral  treasures.  But  Edmond  re- 
membered he  had  come  thither  for  other  reasons  than  to 
indulge  a  grief  now,  alas  !  unavailing ;  and,  stifling  the 
deep  sigh  that  rose  to  his  lips,  he  advanced  to  the  door, 
and  inquired  whether  there  were  any  chambers  to  be  let  in 
the  house.  Though  answered  in  the  negative,  he  begged 
so  earnestly  to  be  permitted  to  visit  those  on  the  fifth 
floor,  that,  in  despite  of  the  concierge's  oft-repeated  assur- 
ance of  their  being  occupied,  Dantes  succeeded  in  inducing 
the  man  to  go  up  to  the  present  possessors  of  these  coveted 
rooms,  and  ask  for  permission  for  a  gentleman  to  be 
allowed  to  look  at  them.  The  tenants  of  the  humble 
lodging,  once  the  scene  of  all  Dantes  early  joys,  consisted 
of  a  young  couple  who  had  been  scarcely  married  a  week  ; 
and  the  sight  of  a  wedded  happiness  he  was  doomed 
never  to  experience  drove  a  bitter  pang  through  his  heart. 
Nothing  in  the  two  small  chambers  forming  the  apart- 
ments remained  as  it  had  been  in  the  time  of  the  elder- 
Dan  tes;  the  very  paper  was  different,  while  the  articles  of 
antiquated  furniture  with  which  the  rooms  had  been  filled 
in  Edmond's  time  had  all  disappeared;  the  four  walls  alone 
remained  as  he  had  left  them.  The  bed  belonging  to  the 
present  occupants  was  placed  as  the  former  owner  of  the 
chamber  had  been  accustomed  to  have  his;  and,  spite  of 
his  efforts  to  prevent  it,  the  eyes  of  Edmond  were  suffused 
in  tears  as  he  reflected  that  on  that  spot  his  beloved 
parent  had  expired,  vainly  calling  for  his  son.  The  young 
couple  gazed  with  astonishment  at  the  sight  of  their  visit- 
or's emotion,  and  wondered  to  see  the  large  tears  silently 
chase  each  other  down  his  otherwise  stern  and  immovable 
features;  but  they  felt  the  sacredness  of  his  grief,  and 
kindly  refrained  from  questioning  him  as  to  its  cause, 
while,  with  instinctive  delicacy,  they  left  him  to  indulge 
his  sorrow  alone.  When  he  withdrew  from  the  scene  of 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRI8TO  335 

his  painful  recollections  they  both  accompanied  him  down- 
stairs, reiterating  their  hope  that  lie  would  come  again 
whenever  he  pleased,  and  assuring  him  their  poor  dwelling 
should  ever  be  open  to  him.  As  Edmond  passed  the  door 
of  similar  rooms  on  the  fourth  floor  he  paused  to  inquire 
whether  Caderousse  the  tailor  still  dwelt  there;  but  he  re- 
ceived for  reply  that  the  individual  in  question  had  got 
into  difficulties,  and  at  the  present  time  kept  a  small  inn 
on  the  route  from  Bellegarde  to  Beaucaire. 

Having  obtained  the  address  of  the  person  to  whom  the 
house  in  the  Allees  de  Meillan  belonged,  Dantes  next  pro- 
ceeded thither,  and,  under  the  name  of  Lord  Wilmore 
(the  same  appellation  as  that  contained  in  his  passport), 
purchased  the  small  dwelling  for  the  sum  of  25,000  francs, 
at  least  10,000  more  than  it  was  worth;  but  had  its  owner 
asked  ten  times  the  sum  he  did  it  would  unhesitatingly 
have  been  given.  The  very  same  day  the  occupants  of  the 
apartments  on  the  fifth  floor  of  the  house,  now  become  the 
property  of  Uant6s,  were  duly  informed  by  the  notary  who 
had  arranged  the  necessary  transfer  of  deeds,  etc.,  that  the 
new  landlord  gave  them  their  choice  of  any  of  the  rooms 
in  the  house,  without  the  least  augmentation  of  rent,  upon 
condition  of  their  giving  instant  possession  of  the  two 
small  chambers  they  at  present  inhabited. 

This  strange  event  served  to  find  food  for  wonder  and 
curiosity  in  the  neighborhood  of  the  Allees  de  Meillan,  and 
a  multitude  of  various  conjectures  were  afloat  as  to  the 
probable  cause  of  the  house  being  so  suddenly  and  myste- 
riously disposed  of;  but  each  surmise  seemed  to  wander 
farther  and  farther  from  the  truth.  But  that  which  raised 
public  astonishment  to  a  climax,  and  set  all  speculation  at 
defiance,  was  the  circumstance  of  the  same  stranger  who 
had  in  the  morning  visited  the  Allies  de  Meillan  being 
seen  in  the  evening  walking  in  the  little  village  of  the 
Catalans,  and  afterward  observed  to  enter  a  poor  fisher- 
man's hut  and  to  pass  more  than  an  hour  in  inquiring 
after  persons  who  had  either  been  dead  or  gone  away  for 
more  than  fifteen  or  sixteen  years.  But  on  the  following 
day  the  family  from  whom  all  these  particulars  had  been 
asked  received  a  handsome  present,  consisting  of  an 
entirely  new  fishing-boat,  with  a  full  supply  of  excellent 
nets.  The  delighted  recipients  of  these  munificent  gifts 
would  gladly  have  poured  out  their  thanks  to  their  gener- 


236  THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRIBTO. 

ous  benefactor;  but  they  had  seen  him,  upon  quitting  the 
hut,  merely  give  some  orders  to  a  sailor,  and  then,  spring- 
ing lightly  on  horseback,  quit  Marseilles  by  the  Porte 
d'Aix. 


CHAPTER    XXVI. 

THE   AUBERGE  OF  PONT   DU   GABD. 

SUCH  of  my  readers  as  have  made  a  pedestrian  excursion 
to  the  south  of  France  may  perchance  have  noticed,  mid- 
way between  the  town  of  Beaucaire  and  the  village  of 
Bellegarde,  a  small  roadside  inn,  from  the  front  of  which 
hung,  creaking  and  flapping  in  the  wind,  a  sheet  of  tin 
covered  with  a  caricature  resemblance  of  the  Pont  du 
Gard.  This  modern  place  of  entertainment  stood  on  the 
left-hand  side  of  the  grand  route,  turning  its  back  upon 
the  Rhone.  It  also  boasted  of  what  in  Languedoc  is 
styled  a  garden,  consisting  of  a  small  plot  of  ground,  a  full 
view  of  which  might  be  obtained  from  a  door  immediately 
opposite  the  grand  portal  by  which  travelers  were  ushered 
in  to  partake  of  the  hospitality  of  mine  host  of  the  Pont 
du  Gard.  This  plaisance,  or  garden,  scorched  up  beneath 
the  ardent  sun  of  a  latitude  of  thirty  degrees,  permitted 
nothing  to  thrive  or  scarcely  live  in  its  arid  soil.  A  few 
dingy  olives  and  stunted  fig-trees  struggled  hard  for  exist- 
ence, but  their  withered,  dusty  foliage  abundantly  proved 
how  unequal  was  the  conflict.  Between  these  sickly  shrubs 
grew  a  scanty  supply  of  garlic,  tomatos,  and  eschalots; 
While,  lone  and  solitary,  like  a  forgotten  sentinel,  a  tall 
pine  raised  its  melancholy  head  in  one  of  the  cornel's  of 
this  unattractive  spot  and  displayed  its  flexible  stem  and 
fan-shaped  summit,  dried  and  cracked  by  the  withering  in- 
fluence of  the  mistral,  that  scourge  of  Provence. 

In  the  surrounding  plain,  which  more  resembled  a  dusky 
lake  than  solid  ground,  were  scattered  a  few  miserable 
stalks  of  wheat,  the  effect,  no  doubt,  of  a  curious  desire 
on  the  part  of  the  agriculturists  of  the  country  to  see 
whether  such  a  thing  as  the  raising  of  grain  in  those 
parched  regions  was  practicable.  The  scanty  produce, 
however,  served  to  accommodate  the  numerous  grasshop- 
pers who  follow  the  unfortunate  invader  of  this  bare  soil 
with  untiring  persecution,  resting  themselves  after  their 


THE  CO  UNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO.  237 

chase  upon  the  stunted  specimens  of  horticulture,  while 
they  filled  the  ear  with  their  sharp,  shrill  cry. 

For  nearly  the  last  eight  years  the  small  auberge  we  have 
just  been  describing  had  been  kept  by  a  man  and  his  wife, 
with  two  servants;  one,  a  strong,  sturdy  wench,  answering 
to  the  name  of  Trinette,  officiated  in  the  capacity  of  cham- 
bermaid; while  the  other,  a  shock-headed  country  lad, 
named  Pecaud,  undertook  the  management  of  the  out- 
door work,  and  contented  himself  with  the  title  of  garpon 
d'ecurie,  or  hostler,  as  we  should  style  it  in  England.  But, 
alas!  the  occupation  of  each  domestic  was  but  nominal,  for 
a  canal  recently  made  between  Beaucaire  and  Aiguemortes 
had  proved  a  most  successful  speculation,  and  had  trans- 
ferred the  mode  of  sending  merchandise  and  luggage  from 
the  heavy  wagons  to  the  towed  barge,  while  travelers  for- 
sook the  diligence  to  glide  over  the  smooth  waters  by  the 
more  agreeable  aid  of  the  steamboat.  And,  as  though  to 
add  to  the  daily  misery  which  this  prosperous  canal  inflicted 
on  the  unfortunate  aubergiste,  whose  utter  ruin  it  was 
fast  accomplishing,  it  was  situated  not  a  hundred  steps 
from  the  forsaken  inn,  of  which  we  have  given  so  faithful 
a  description. 

The  aubergiste  himself  was  a  man  of  from  40  to  55 
years  of  age,  tall,  strong,  and  bony,  a  perfect  specimen  of 
the  natives  of  those  southern  latitudes  ;  he  had  the  dark, 
sparkling,  and  deep-set  eye,  curved  nose,  and  teeth  white 
as  those  of  a  carnivorous  animal ;  his  hair,  which, 
spite  of  the  light  touch  time  had  as  yet  left  on  it, 
seemed  as  though  it  refused  to  assume  any  other 
color  than  its  own,  was  like  his  beard,  which  he 
wore  under  his  chin  thick  and  curly,  and  but  slightly 
mingled  with  a  few  silvery  threads.  His  naturally  murky 
complexion  had  assumed  a  still  further  shade  of  brown 
from  the  habit  the  unfortunate  man  had  acquired  of  sta- 
tioning himself  from  early  morning  till  latest  eve  at  the 
threshold  of  his  door,  in  eager  hope  that  some  traveler, 
either  equestrian  or  pedestrian,  might  bless  his  eyes  and 
give  him  the  delight  of  once  more  seeing  a  guest  enter  his 
doors.  But  his  patience  and  his  expectations  were  alike 
useless;  yet  there  he  stood,  day  after  day,  exposed  to  the 
meridianal  rays  of  a  burning  sun,  with  no  other  protection 
for  his  head  than  a  red  handkerchief  twisted  around  it, 
alter  the  manner  of  the  Spanish  muleteers.  This  anxious, 

DUMAS — VOL.  I. — 11 


238  TEE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO. 

careworn  aubergiste  was  no  other  than  our  ci-devant  ac- 
quaintance, Caderousse.  His  wife,  on  the  contrary,  whose 
maiden  name  had  been  Madeleine  Radelle,  was  pale, 
meager  and  sickly  looking.  Born  in  the  neighborhood  of 
Aries,  she  had  shared  in  the  beauty  for  which  its  females 
are  proverbial;  but  that  beauty  had  gradually  withered 
beneath  the  devastating  influence  of  those  slow  fevers  so 
prevalent  in  the  vicinity  of  the  waters  of  the  Aiguemorte 
and  the  marshes  of  Camargue.  She  remained  nearly  al- 
ways in  her  chamber,  situated  on  the  first  floor,  sitting 
shivering  in  her  chair  or  extended  languid  and  feeble  on 
her  bed,  while  her  husband  kept  his  daily  watch  at  the 
door — a  duty  he  performed  with  so  much  -the  greater 
willingness,  as  it  saved  him  the  necessity  of  listening  to 
the  endless  plaints  and  murmurs  of  his  helpmate,  who 
never  saw  him  without  breaking  out  into  bitter  invectives 
against  fate  and  the  unmerited  hardships  she  was  called 
upon  to  endure;  to  all  of  which  her  husband  would  calmly 
return  an  unvarying  reply,  couched  in  these  philosophic 
words: 

"Cease  to  grieve  about  it,  La  Carconte.  It  is  God's 
pleasure  that  you  should  suffer,  and  whether  you  like  it  or 
not,  you  must  bear  it." 

The  sobriquet  of  La  Carconte  had  been  bestowed  on 
Madeleine  Radelle  from  the  circumstance  of  her  having 
been  born  in  a  village  so  called,  situated  between  Salon 
and  Lanbese;  and  as  a  custom  existed  among  the  inhabi- 
tants of  that  part  of  France  where  Caderousse  lived  of 
styling  every  person  by  some  particular  and  distinctive 
appellation,  her  husband  had  bestowed  on  her  the  name  of 
La  Carconte  in  place  of  her  sweet  and  euphonious  name 
of  Madeleine,  which,  in  all  probability,  his  rude  guttural 
language  would  not  have  enabled  him  to  pronounce.  Still, 
let  it  not  be  supposed  that  amid  this  affected  resignation 
to  the  will  of  Providence  the  unfortunate  aubergiste  did 
not  writhe  under  the  double  misery  of  seeing  the  hateful 
canal  carry  off  alike  his  customers  and  profits,  and  the 
daily  implication  of  his  peevish  partner's  murmurs  and 
lamentations. 

Like  other  dwellers  of  the  south,  he  was  a  man  of  sober 
habits  and  moderate  desires,  but  found  of  external  show, 
vain  and  addicted  to  display.  During  the  days  of  his 
prosperity  not  a  fete,  festivity  or  ceremonial  took  place 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO.  239 

without  himself  and  wife  being  among  the  spectators.  He 
dressed  in  the  picturesque  costume  worn  upon  grand  occa- 
sions by  the  inhabitants  of  the  south  of  France,  bearing 
equal  resemblance  to  the  style  adopted  both  by  the  Catalans 
and  Andalusians;  while  La  Carconte  displayed  the  charm- 
ing fashion  prevalent  among  the  females  of  Aries,  a  mode 
of  attire  borrowed  equally  from  Greece  and  Arabia.  But, 
by  degrees,  watch-chains,  necklaces,  many-colored  scarfs, 
embroidered  bodices,  velvet  vests,  elegantly  worked  stock- 
ings, striped  gaiter  and  silver  buckles  for  the  shoes  all  dis- 
appeared; and  Gaspard  Caderousse,  unable  to  appear 
abroad  in  his  pristine  splendor,  had  given  up  any  further 
participation  in  these  pomps  and  vanities,  both  for  himself 
or  wife,  although  a  bitter  feeling  of  envious  discontent 
filled  his  mind  as  the  sound  of  mirth  and  merry  music 
from  the  joyous  revelers  reached  even  the  misereble  hostelry 
to  which  he  still  clung,  more  for  the  shelter  than  the  profit 
it  afforded. 

On  the  present  day  Caderousse  was,  as  usual,  at  his 
place  of  observation  before  the  door,  his  eyes  glancing  list- 
lessly from  a  piece  of  closely  shaven  grass,  on  which  some 
fowls  were  industriously,  though  fruitlessly,  endeavoring 
to  turn  up  some  grain  or  insect  suited  to  their  palate,  to 
the  deserted  road,  the  two  extremities  of  which  pointed 
respectively  north  and  south,  when  he  was  roused  from  his 
daily  speculations  as  to  the  possibility  of  the  auberge  of 
the  Pont  du  Gard  ever  again  being  called  upon  to  exercise 
its  hospitable  capabilities  to  any  chance  visitant  by  the 
shrill  voice  of  his  wife  summoning  him  to  her  presence 
with  all  speed.  Murmuring  at  the  disagreeable  interrup- 
tion to  his  not  very  agreeable  thoughts,  he,  however,  pro- 
ceeded to  the  floor  in  which  was  situated  the  chamber  of 
his  better  half;  taking  care,  however,  preparatory  to  so 
doing,  to  set  the  entrance  door  wide  open,  that,  in  the 
event  of  that  rara  avis,  a  traveler,  passing  by,  it  should  be 
made  perfectly  clear  to  his  comprehension  that  no  cere- 
mony was  requisite  in  entering. 

At  the  moment  Caderousse  quitted  his  sentry-like  watch 
before  the  door  the  road  on  which  he  so  eagerly  strained 
his  sight  was  void  and  lonely  as  a  desert  at  midday.  There 
it  lay  stretched  out,  one  interminable  line  of  dust  and  sand, 
with  its  sides  bordered  by  tall,  meager  trees,  altogether 
presenting  so  uninviting  an  appearance  that  no  one  in 


240  THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO. 

their  senses  could  have  imagined  that  any  traveler,  at 
liberty  to  regulate  his  hours  for  journeying,  would  choose 
to  expose  himself  to  the  scorch  of  a  meridian  sun  in  such 
a  formidable  Sahara.  Nevertheless,  had  Caderousse  but 
retained  his  post  a  few  minutes  longer  he  might  have 
caught  a  dim  outline  of  something  approaching  from  the 
direction  of  Bellegarde.  As  the  moving  object  drew 
nearer,  he  would  easily  have  perceived  it  consisted  of  a 
man  and  horse,  between  whom  the  kindest  and  most 
amiable  understanding  appeared  to  exist.  The  horse  was 
of  Hungarian  breed,  and  ambled  along  with  that  easy  pace 
peculiar  to  that  race  of  animals.  His  rider  was  a  priest, 
dressed  in  black  and  wearing  a  three-cornered  hat;  and, 
spite  of  the  ardent  rays  of  a  noonday  sun,  the  pair  came 
on  at  a  tolerably  smart  trot. 

Having  arrived  before  the  auberge  du  Pont  du  Gard  the 
horse  stopped,  but  whether  for  his  own  pleasure  or  that  of 
his  rider  would  have  been  difficult  to  say.  However  that 
might  have  been,  the  measure  appeared  reciprocally  agree- 
able, since  no  demur  was  observable  in  either.  The  priest, 
dismounting,  led  his  steed  by  the  bridle  in  search  of  some 
place  to  which  he  could  secure  him.  Availing  himself  of 
a  handle  that  projected  from  a  half-fallen  door,  he  tied  the 
animal  safely,  patted  him  kindly,  and,  having  drawn  a  red 
cotton  handkerchief  from  his  pocket,  wiped  away  the  per- 
spiration that  streamed  from  his  brow;  then,  advancing  to 
the  door,  struck  thrice  with  the  end  of  his  iron-shod  stick, 
At  this  unusual  sound  a  huge,  black  dog  came  rushing  to 
meet  the  daring  assailant  of  his  ordinarily  tranquil  abode, 
snarling  and  displaying  his  sharp  white  teeth  with  a  deter- 
mined hostility  that  abundantly  proved  how  little  he  was 
accustomed  to  society.  At  that  moment  a  heavy  footstep 
was  heard  descending  the  wooden  staircase  that  led  from 
the  upper  floor,  and,  with  many  bows  and  courteous  smiles, 
mine  host  of  the  Pont  du  Gard  welcomed  the  blessing 
heaven  had  sent  him  in  the  shape  of  a  weary  traveler; 
while,  retreating  into  the  house  with  backward  step,  he 
besought  his  guest  would  honor  him  by  entering  also. 

"You  are  welcome,  sir,  most  welcome!"  repeated  the 
astonished  Caderousse,  in  his  blandest  tones.  "  Now, 
then,  Margontin,"  cried  he,  speaking  to  the  dog,  "  will 
you  be  quiet?  Pray,  don't  heed  him,  sir — he  only  barks, 
he  never  bites!  I  make  no  doubt  a  glass  of  good  wine 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CR18TO.  241 

would  be  acceptable  this  dreadfully  hot  day."  Then,  per- 
ceiving for  the  first  time  the  description  of  traveler  he  had 
to  entertain,  Caderousse  hastily  exclaimed :  "A  thousand 
pardons,  your  reverence!  I  really  did  not  observe  whom  I 
had  the  honor  to  receive  under  my  poor  roof.  What 
would  you  please  to  have,  M.  1'Abbe?  What  refreshment 
can  I  offer  you?  All  I  have  is  at  your  service." 

The  priest  looked  on  the  individual  addressing  him  with 
a  long  and  searching  gaze — there  even  seemed  like  a  dis- 
position on  his  part  to  court  a  similar  scrutiny  on  the  part 
of  the  aubergiste;  then,  remarking  in  the  countenance  of 
the  latter  no  other  expression  than  extreme  surprise  at 
his  own  want  of  attention  to  an  inquiry  so  courteously 
worded,  he  deemed  it  well  to  terminate  this  dumb  show, 
and  therefore  said,  speaking  with  a  strong,  Italian  accent: 

"  You  are,  I  presume,  M.  Caderousse?" 

"  Your  reverence  is  quite  correct,"  answered  the  host, 
even  more  surprised  at  the  question  than  he  had  been  by 
the  silence  which  had  prefaced  it;  "I  am  Gaspard  Cade- 
rousse, at  your  service. 

"  Gaspard  Caderousse!"  rejoined  the  priest.  "  Yes,  that 
agrees  both  with  the  baptismal  appellation  and  surname  of 
the  individual  I  allude  to.  You  formerly  lived,  I  believe, 
in  the  Allees  de  Meillan,  on  the  fourth  floor  of  a  small 
house  situated  there?" 

"I  did." 

"  Where  you  followed  the  business  of  a  tailor?" 

"  True,  I  was  a  tailor,  till  the  trade  fell  off  so  as  not  to 
afford  me  a  living.  Then,  it  is  so  very  hot  at  Marseilles 
that  really  I  could  bear  it  no  longer;  and  it  is  my  idea  that 
all  the  respectable  inhabitants  will  be  obliged  to  follow  my 
example  and  quit  it.  But,  talking  of  heat,  is  there  noth- 
ing I  can  offer  you  by  way  of  refreshment?" 

"  Yes;  let  me  have  a  bottle  of  your  best  wine,  and  then, 
with  your  permission,  we  will  resume  our  conversation 
from  where  we  left  off." 

"  As  you  please,  M.  PAbbe,"  said  Caderousse,  who,  anx- 
ious not  to  lose  the  present  opportunity  of  finding  a  cus- 
tomer for  one  of  the  few  bottles  of  vin  de  Cahors  still 
remaining  in  his  possession,  hastily  raised  a  trap-door  in 
the  floor  of  the  apartment  they  were  in,  which  served  both 
as  parlor  and  kitchen.  Upon  his  issuing  forth  from  his 
subterranean  retreat  at  the  expiration  of  five  minutes,  he 


242  THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRI8TO. 

found  the  abbe  seated  on  a  species  of  stool,  leaning  his 
elbow  on  a  table,  while  Margontin,  whose  animosity  seemed 
appeased  by  the  traveler  having  pronounced  the  unusual 
command  for  refreshments,  had  crept  up  to  him,  and  had 
established  himself  very  comfortably  between  his  knees, 
his  long,  skinny  neck  resting  on  his  lap,  while  his  dim  eye 
was  fixed  earnestly  on  the  traveler's  face. 

"Are  you  quite  alone?"  inquired  the  guest,  as  Caderousse 
placed  before  him  the  bottle  of  wine  and  a  glass. 

"  Quite,  quite  alone,"  replied  the  man;  "  or  at  least,  all 
but  so,  M.  1'Abbe;  for  my  poor  wife,  who  is  the  only 
person  in  the  house  besides  myself,  is  laid  up  with  illness, 
and  unable  to  render  me  the  least  assistance,  poor  thing !" 

"  You  are  married,  then?"  said  the  priest,  with  a  species 
of  interest,  glancing  round  as  he  spoke  at  the  scanty 
style  of  the  accommodation  and  humble  fittings-up  of  the 
apartment. 

"Ah,  M.  TAbbe,"  said  Caderousse,  with  a  sigh,  "  it  is 
easy  to  perceive  I  am  not  a  rich  man;  but  in  this  world  a 
man  does  not  thrive  the  better  for  being  honest." 

The  abbe  fixed  on  him  a  searching,  penetrating   glance. 

"I  can  certainly  say  that  much  for  myself,"  replied 
the  aubergiste,  fairly  sustaining  the  scrutiny  of  the  abbe's 
gaze;  "  I  can  boast  with  truth  of  being  an  honest  man; 
and,"  continued  he,  significantly,  shaking  his  head,  "  that 
is  more  than  every  one  can  say  nowadays." 

"  So  much  the  better  for  you,  if  what  you  assert  be 
true,"  said  the  abbe;  "  for  I  am  firmly  persuaded  that, 
sooner  or  later,  the  good  will  be  rewarded  and  the  wicked 
punished." 

"  Such  words  as  those  belong  to  your  profession,  M. 
FAbbe,"  answered  Caderousse,  "  and  you  do  well  to  repeat 
them;  but,"  added  he,  with  a  bitter  expression  of  counte- 
nance, "you  cannot  make  people  believe  them  in  opposition 
to  what  passes  before  them  every  day,  when  the  reverse  takes 
place,  and  it  is  the  wicked  man  who  prospers,  and  the 
honest,  deserving  man  who  suffers." 

"You  are  wrong  to  speak  thus,"  said  the  abbe;  "  and 
perhaps  I  may,  in  my  own  person,  be  able  to  prove  to  you 
now  completely  you  are  in  error  in  coming  to  so  mischiev- 
ous and  dangerous  a  conclusion." 

"  What  mean  you?"  inquired  Caderousse,  with  a  look  of 
surprise. 


THE  CO  UNT  OP  MONTE  CRISTO.  243 

"  In  the  first  place,  it  is  requisite  I  should  be  satisfied  you 
are  the  person  I  am  in  search  of." 

"What  proofs  do  you  require?" 

"  Did  you,  in  the  year  1814  or  1815,  know  anything  of 
a  young  sailor  named  Dantes?" 

"Did  I?  I  should  think  I  did.  Poor,  dear  Edmond! 
Why,  Edmond  Dantes  and  myself  were  intimate  friends!* 
exclaimed  Caderousse,  whose  countenance  assumed  an 
almost  purple  hue  as  he  caught  the  penetrating  gaze  of 
the  abbe  fixed  on  him,  while  the  clear,  calm  eye  of  the 
questioner  seemed  to  cover  him  with  confusion. 

"  You  remind  me,"  said  the  priest,  "  that  the  young 
man  concerning  whom  I  asked  you  was  said  to  bear  the 
name  of  Edmond." 

"  Said  to  bear  the  name!"  repeated  Caderousse,  becoming 
excited  and  eager.  "  Why,  he  was  so  called  as  truly  as  I 
myself  bore  the  appellation  of  Gaspard  Caderousse;  but,  M. 
1'Abbe,  tell  me,  I  pray,  what  has  become  of  poor  Edmond? 
Did  you  know  him?  Is  he  alive  and  at  liberty?  Is  he 
prosperous  and  happy?" 

"He  died  a  more  wretched,  hopeless,  heart-broken 
prisoner  than  the  felons  who  pay  the  penalty  of  their 
crimes  at  the  galleys  of  Toulon." 

A  deadly  paleness  succeeded  the  deep  suffusion  which 
had  before  spread  itself  over  the  countenance  of  Cade- 
rousse, who  turned  away,  but  not  so  much  so  as  to  prevent 
the  priest's  observing  him  wiping  away  tears  from  his  eyes 
with  the  corner  of  the  red  handkerchief  twisted  around  his 
head. 

"Poor  fellow!  poor  fellow!"  murmured  Caderousse. 
"Well,  there,  M.  1  Abbe,  is  another  proof  that  good  people 
are  never  rewarded  on  this  earth,  and  that  none  but  wicked 
prosper.  Ah,"  continued  Caderousse,  speaking  in  the 
highly  colored  language  of  the  south,  "  tne  world  grows 
worse  and  worse.  Why  does  not  God,  if  He  really  hates 
the  wicked,  as  He  is  said  to  do,  send  down  brimstone  and 
fire  and  consume  them  all  together?" 

"You  speak  as  though  you  had  loved  this  young  Dan- 
t£s,"  observed  the  abbe,  without  taking  any  notice  of  his 
companion's  vehemence. 

"And  eo  I  did,"  replied  Caderousse;  "though  once,  I 
confess,  I  envied  him  his  good  fortune.  But  I  swear  to 
you,  M.  1'Abbe,  I  swear  to  you,  by  everything  a  man  holds 


244  THE  CO  UNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO. 

dear,  I  have,  since  then,  deeply  and  sincerely  lamented  his 
unhappy  fate." 

There  was  a  brief  silence,  during  which  the  fixed,  search- 
ing eye  of  the  abbe  was  employed  in  scrutinizing  the  agi- 
tated features  of  the  aubergiste. 

"  You  knew  the  poor  lad,  then?"  continued  Caderousse. 

"  Nay,  I  was  merely  called  to  see  him  when  on  his  dying 
bed  that  I  might  administer  to  him  the  consolations  of 
religion." 

"And  of  what  did  he  die?"  asked  Caderousse,  in  a 
choking  voice. 

"  Of  what,  think  you,  do  young  and  strong  men  die  in 
prison  when  they  have  scarcely  numbered  their  30th 
year  unless  it  be  of  the  horrors  of  that  prison  which  has 
spread  its  stony  walls  against  their  breathing  the  air  of 
heaven  or  participating  in  the  secret  affections  a  gracious 
Creator  permitted  to  find  growth  within  the  human  breast? 
Edmond  Dantes  died  in  prison  of  sorrow  and  a  broken 
heart." 

Caderousse  wiped  away  the  large  beads  of  perspiration 
that  gathered  on  his  brow. 

"  But  the  strangest  part  of  the  story  is,"  resumed  the 
abb6,  "  that  Dantes,  even  in  his  dying  moments,  swore  by 
his  crucified  Redeemer  that  he  was  utterly  ignorant  of  the 
cause  of  his  imprisonment." 

"And  so  he  was,"  murmured  Caderousse.  "How 
should  he  have  been  otherwise?  Ah,  M.  PAbbe,  the  poor 
fellow  told  you  the  truth." 

"  And  for  that  reason  he  besought  me  to  try  and  clear 
up  a  mystery  he  had  never  been  able  to  penetrate,  and  to 
clear  his  memory  should  any  foul  spot  or  stain  have  fallen 
on  it." 

And  here  the  look  of  the  abbe,  becoming  more  and 
more  fixed,  seemed  to  rest  with  ill-concealed  satisfaction 
on  the  gloomy  depression  which  appeared  to  rapidly  spread 
over  the  countenance  of  Caderousse. 

"  A  rich  Englishman,"  continued  the  abbe,  "  who  had 
been  his  companion  in  misfortune  but  had  been  released 
from  prison  during  the  recoud  restoration,  was  possessed 
of  a  diamond  of  immense  value.  This  precious  jewel  he 
bestowed  upon  Dantes  on  himself  quitting  the  prison  as  a 
mark  of  his  gratitude  for  the  kindness  and  brotherly  care 
with  which  Dantes  had  nursed  him  in  a  severe  illness  he 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRI8TO.  345 

underwent  during  his  confinement.  Instead  of  employ- 
ing this  diamond  in  attempting  to  bribe  his  jailers,  who 
might  only  have  taken  it  and  then  betrayed  him  to  the 
governor,  Dant£s  carefully  preserved  it  that  in  the  event 
of  his  getting  out  of  prison  he  might  have  wherewithal  to 
live,  for  the  produce  of  such  a  diamond  would  have  quite 
sufficed  to  make  his  fortune." 

"Then,  I  suppose,"  asked  Caderousse,  with  eager,  glow- 
ing looks,  "  that  it  was  a  stone  of  immense  value?" 

"  Why,  everything  is  relative,"  answered  the  abbe. 
"  To  one  in  Edmond's  position  the  diamond  certainly  was 
of  great  value.  It  was  estimated  at  50,000  francs." 

"Bless  me!"  exclaimed  Caderousse,  "what  a  sum!  50,- 
000  francs!  Surely,  the  diamond  was  as  large  as  a  nut  to 
be  worth  all  that." 

"  No,"  replied  the  abbe,  "it  was  not  of  such  a  size  as 
that;  but  you  shall  judge  for  yourself — I  have  it  with  me." 

The  sharp  gaze  of  Caderousse  was  instantly  directed 
toward  the  priest's  garments  as  though  hoping  to  discover 
the  talked-of  treasure.  Calmly  drawing  forth  from  his 
pocket  a  small  box  covered  with  black  shagreen  the  abbe 
opened  it  and  displayed  to  the  delighted  eyes  of  Cade- 
rousse the  sparkling  jewel  it  contained,  set  in  a  ring  of 
admirable  workmanship. 

"  And  that  diamond,"  cried  Caderousse,  almost  breath- 
less with  eager  admiration,  "you  say,  is  worth  50,000 
francs?" 

"  It  is,  without  the  setting,  which  is  also  valuable,"  re- 
plied the  abbe,  as  he  closed  the  box  and  returned  it  to  his 
pocket,  while  its  brilliant  hues  seemed  still  to  dance  before 
the  eyes  of  the  fascinated  aubergiste. 

"But  how  comes  this  diamond  in  your  possession, 
M.  FAbbe?  Did  Edmond  make  you  his  heir?" 

"  No,  merely  his  testamentary  executor.  When  dying, 
the  unfortunate  youth  said  tome:  'I  once  possessed  four 
dear  and  faithful  friends,  besides  the  maiden  to  whom  I 
was  betrothed,  and  I  feel  convinced  they  have  all  un- 
feigned ly  grieved  over  my  loss.  The  name  of  one  of  the 
four  friends  I  allude  to  is  Caderousse/  " 

The  aubergiste  shivered  as  though  he  felt  the  dead,  cold 
hand  of  the  betrayed  Edmond  grasping  his  own. 

"  '  Another  of  the  number/  continued  the  abb6,  with- 
out seeming  to  notice  the  emotion  of  Caderousse,  "  '  ia 


246  THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO. 

called  Danglars;  and  the  third,  spite  of  being  my  rival, 
entertained  a  very  sincere  affection  for  me.'  " 

A  fiendish  smile  played  over  the  features  of  Caderousse, 
who  was  about  to  break  in  upon  the  abbe's  speech,  when 
the  latter,  waving  his  hand,  said: 

"Allow  me  to  finish  first  and  then  if  you  have  any  observa- 
tions to  make  you  can  do  so  afterward.  '  The  third  of  my 
friends,  although  my  rival,  was  much  attached  to  me. 
His  name  was  Fernand;  that  of  my  betrothed  was  ' — stay, 
stay,"  continued  the  abbe,  "I  have  forgotten  what  he 
called  her." 

"  Mercedes,"  cried  Caderousse,  eagerly. 

"  True,"  said  the  abbe,  with  a  stifled  sigh.  "  Mercedes 
it  was." 

"Go  on,"  urged  Caderousse. 

"  Bring  me  a  carafe  of  water,"  said  the  abbe." 

Caderousse  quickly  performed  the  stranger's  bidding; 
and  after  pouring  some  into  a  glass  and  slowly  swallowing 
its  contents  the  abbe,  resuming  his  usual  placidity  of  man- 
ner, said,  as  he  placed  his  empty  glass  on  the  table: 

"  Where  did  we  leave  off  ?" 

"  Oh,  that  the  betrothed  of  Edmond  was  called  Mer- 
c6des." 

"  To  be  sure.  *  Well,  then/  said  Dantds,  for  you  un- 
derstand I  repeat  his  words  just  as  he  uttered  them,  '  you 
will  go  to  Marseilles/  Do  you  understand  ?" 

"  Perfectly." 

"  *  For  the  purpose  of  selling  this  diamond,  the  produce 
of  which  you  will  divide  into  five  equal  parts,  and  give  an 
equal  portion  to  the  only  persons  who  have  loved  me  upon 
earth.'" 

"  But  why  into  five  parts?"  asked  Caderousse;  "  you 
only  mentioned  four  persons." 

"  Because  the  fifth  is  dead,  as  I  hear.  The  fifth  sharer 
in  Edmond's  bequest  was  his  own  father." 

"  Too  true,  too  true!"  ejaculated  Caderousse,  almost 
suffocated  by  the  contending  passions  which  assailed  him, 
"  the  poor  old  man  did  die." 

"I  learned  so  much  at  Marseilles,"  replied  the  abbe, 
making  a  strong  effort  to  appear  indifferent;  "  but  from 
the  length  of  time  that  has  elapsed  since  the  death  of  the 
elder  Dant£s  I  was  unable  to  obtain  any  particulars  of  his 
end.  You  possibly  may  be  capable  of  furnishing  me  with 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO.  247 

such  minute  circumstances  as  may  serve  to  substantiate 
the  decease  of  the  elder  Dantes." 

"I  do  not  know  who  could  if  I  could  not,"  said  Cade- 
rousse.  "  Why,  I  lived  almost  on  the  same  floor  with  the 
poor  old  man.  Ah,  yes,  about  a  year  after  the  disappear- 
ance of  his  son  the  old  man  died. 

"Of  what  did  he  die?" 

"  Why,  the  doctors  called  his  complaint  an  internal  in- 
flammation, I  believe;  his  acquaintances  say  he  died  of 
grief  ;  but  I,  who  saw  him  in  his  dying  moments,  I  say  he 
died  of " 

"  Of  what?"  asked  the  priest,  anxiously  and  eagerly. 

"Why,  of  downright  starvation!" 

"  Starvation!"  exclaimed  the  abbe,  springing  from  his 
seat.  "Why,  the  vilest  animals  are  not  suffered  to  die  by 
such  a  death  as  that.  The  very  dogs  that  wander  house- 
less and  homeless  in  the  streets  find  some  pitying  hand  to 
cast  them  a  mouthful  of  bread;  and  that  a  man,  a  Chris- 
tian, should  be  allowed  to  parish  of  hunger  in  the  midst  of 
other  men  equally  Christians  with  himself,  is  too  horrible 
for  belief.  Oh,  it  is  impossible— utterly  impossible!" 

"  What  I  have  said,  I  have  said,"  answered  Caderousse. 

"  And  you  are  a  fool  for  having  said  anything  about  it," 
said  a  voice  from  the  top  of  the  stairs.  "  Why  should  you 
meddle  with  what  does  not  concern  you  ?" 

The  two  male  speakers  turned  round  quickly  and  per- 
ceived the  sickly  countenance  of  La  Carconte  leaning  over 
the  rail  of  the  staircase;  attracted  by  the  sound  of  voices 
she  had  feebly  dragged  herself  down  the  stairs,  and,  seated 
on  the  lower  step,  she  had  listened  to  the  foregoing  conver- 
sation. 

"  Mind  your  own  business,  wife,"  replied  Caderousse, 
sharply.  "  This  gentleman  asks  me  for  information  which 
common  politeness  will  not  permit  me  to  refuse." 

"  Politeness !  you  simpleton  !"  retorted  La  Carconte. 
"  What  have  you  to  do  with  politeness,  I  should  like  to 
know?  Better  study  a  little  common  prudence.  How  do 
you  know  the  motives  that  person  may  have  for  trying  to 
extract  all  he  can  from  your" 

"I  pledge  you  my  sacred  word, madame," said  the  abbe, 
"  that  my  intentions  are  free  from  all  sorts  of  harm  or  in- 
jury to  you  or  yours;  and  that  your  husband  can  incur  no 
risk,  provided  he  answers  me  candidly." 


248  THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRIHTO. 

"Ah,  that's  all  very  fine,"  retorted  the  woman. 
ing  is  easier  than  to  begin  with  fair  promises  and  assur- 
ances of  nothing  to  fear,  but  when  poor,  silly  folks,  like 
my  husband  there,  have  been  persuaded  to  tell  all  they 
know,  the  promises  and  assurances  of  safety  are  quickly 
forgotten;  and  at  some  moment,  when  nobody  is  expecting 
it,  behold  trouble  and  misery,  and  all  sorts  of  persecutions 
are  heaped  on  the  unfortunate  wretches,  who  cannot  even 
see  whence  all  their  afflictions  come." 

"Nay,  nay,  my  good  woman,  make  yourself  perfectly 
easy,  I  beg  of  you.  Whatever  evils  may  befall  you,  they 
will  not  be  occasioned  by  my  instrumentality,  that  I 
solemnly  promise  you." 

Some  inarticulate  sounds  escaped  La  Carconte;  then, 
letting  her  head,  which  she  had  raised  during  the  excite- 
ment of  conversation,  again  droop  onto  her  lap,  she  com- 
menced her  usual  aguish  trembling,  the  result  of  her 
feverish  attack,  leaving  the  two  speakers  to  resume  the 
conversation,  but  still  remaining  herself  so  placed  as  to  be 
able  to  hear  every  word  they  uttered.  Again  the  abbe  had 
been  obliged  to  swallow  a  draught  of  water  to  calm  the 
emotions  that  threatened  to  overpower  him.  When  he  had 
sufficiently  recovered  himself,  he  said: 

"  It  appears,  then,  that  the  miserable  old  man  you  were 
telling  me  of  was  forsaken  by  every  one.  Surely,  had  not 
such  been  the  case,  he  would  not  have  perished  by  so 
dreadful  a  death  as  you  described." 

"  Why,  he  was  not  altogether  forsaken,"  continued 
Caderousse;  "  for  Mercedes,  the  Catalan,  and  M.  Morrel 
were  very  kind  to  him;  but  somehow  the  poor  old  man  had 
contracted  a  profound  hatred  of  'Fernand — the  very  per- 
son," added  Caderousse,  with  a  bitter  smile,  "  that  you 
named  just  now  as  being  one  of  Dantes'  faithful  and 
attached  friends." 

"  And  was  he  not  so?"  asked  the  abb6. 

"  Gaspare! !  Gaspard!"  murmured  the  woman,  from  her 
seat  on  the  stairs,  "mind  what  you  are  saying!" 

Caderousse  made  no  reply  to  these  words,  though  evi- 
dently irritated  and  annoyed  by  the  interruption,  but,  ad- 
dressing the  abbe,  said:  "  Can  a  man  be  faithful  to  an- 
other whose  wife  he  covets  and  desires  for  himself  ?  But 
Dantes  was  so  honorable  and  true  in  his  own  nature  that 
he  believed  everybody's  profession  of  friendship.  Poor 


THE  CO  VNT  OF  MONTE  VRI8TO.  249 

Edmond!  he  was  cruelly  deceived;  but  it  was  a  happy 
thing  he  never  knew  it,  or  he  might  have  found  it  more 
difficult,  when  on  his  death-bed,  to  pardon  his  enemies. 
And,  whatever  people  may  say,"  continued  Caderousse,  in 
his  native  language,  which  was  not  altogether  devoid  of 
rude  poetry,  "I  cannot  help  being  more  frightened  at  the 
idea  of  the  malediction  of  the  dead  than  the  hatred  of  the 
living." 

"Weak-minded  coward  \"  exclaimed  La  Carconte. 

"  Do  you,  then,  know  in  what  manner  Fernaud  injured 
Dantes?"  inquired  the  abbe  of  Caderousse. 

"  Do  I?    No  one  better." 

"  Speak  out,  then;   say  what  it  was!" 

"  Gaspard!"  cried  La  Carconte,  "I  cannot  force  you  to 
do  otherwise  than  as  you  please,  but  if  you  are  guided  by 
me  you  will  have  nothing  to  say  on  this"  subject." 

"  Well,  well,  wife,"  replied  Caderousse,  "  I  do  not  know 
but  what  you  are  right.  I  shall  follow  your  advice.'*" 

"  Then  you  are  determined  not  to  reveal  the  circum- 
stances you  allude  to?"  said  the  abbe. 

"  Why,  what  good  would  it  do?"  asked  Caderousse.  "  If 
the  poor  lad  were  living  and  came  to  me  to  beg  I  would 
candidly  tell  which  were  his  true  and  which  his  false 
friends,  why,  perhaps,  I  should  not  hesitate.  But  you  tell 
me  he  is  no  more,  and,  therefore,  can  have  nothing  to  do 
with  hatred  or  revenge;  so  let  all  such  feelings  be  buried 
with  him." 

"  You  prefer,  then,"  said  the  abbe,  "  allowing  me  to  be- 
stow on  men  you  say  are  false  and  treacherous,  the  reward 
intended  for  faithful  friendship?" 

"That  is  true  enough,"  returned  Caderousse.  "You 
say  truly,  the  gift  of  poor  Edmond  was  not  meant  for  such 
traitors  as  Fernand  and  Danglars;  besides,  what  would  it 
be  to  them?  no  more  than  a  drop  of  water  in  the 
ocean." 

"And  remember,  husband,"  chimed  in  La  Carconte, 
"that  to. breathe  one  syllable  against  those  two  individuals 
would  be  to  raise  up  against  yourself  two  formidable  ene- 
mies, who  at  a  word  could  level  you  to  the  dust." 

"How  so?"  inquired  the  abbe.  "Are  these  persons, 
then,  so  rich  and  powerful?" 

"Do  you  not  know  their  history?" 

"  I  do  not.     Pray  relate  it  to  mel" 


250  THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRI8TO. 

Caderousse  seemed  to  reflect  for  a  few  instants,  then  said: 
"No,  truly,  it  would  take  up  too  much  time." 

"  Well,  my  good  friend,"  returned  the  abbe,  in  a  tone 
that  indicated  utter  indifference  on  his  part,  "  you  are  at 
liberty  either  to  speak  or  be  silent,  just  as  you  please;  for 
my  own  part,  I  respect  your  scruples  and  admire  your  sen- 
timents; so  let  the  matter  end.  I  shall  do  my  duty  as  con- 
scientiously as  I  can  and  fulfill  my  promise  "to  the  dying 
man.  My  first  business  will  be  to  dispose  of  this  diamond." 

So  saying,  the  abbe  again  drew  the  small  box  from  his 
pocket,  opened  it,  and  contrived  to  hold  it  in  such  a  light 
that  a  bright  flash  of  brilliant  hues  passed  before  the 
dazzled  gaze  of  Caderousse. 

"  Wife,  wife!"  cried  he,  in  a  voice  almost  hoarse  with 
eager  emotion,  "come  hither  and  behold  this  rich 
diamond!" 

"Diamond!"  exclaimed  La  Carconte,  rising  and  de- 
scending to  the  chamber  with  a  tolerably  firm  step;  "  what 
diamond  are  you  talking  about?" 

"Why,  did  you  not  hear  all  we  said?"  inquired  Cade- 
rousse. "  It  is  a  beautiful  diamond  left  by  poor  Edmond 
Dautes,  to  be  sold,  and  the  money  divided  among  his 
father,  Mercedes,  his  betrothed  bride,  Fernand,  Danglars 
and  myself.  The  jewel  is  worth,  at  least,  50,000  francs." 

"  Oh,  what  a  splendid  diamond!"  cried  the  astonished 
woman. 

"  The  fifth  part  of  the  produce  of  this  stone  belongs  to 
us,  then,  does  it  not?"  asked  Caderousse,  still  devouring 


the  glittering  gem  with  his  eyes. 
"It  does,    repli( 


the  abbe;  "with  the  addition  of  an 
equal  division  of  that  part  intended  for  the  elder  Dante's, 
which  I  conceive  myself  at  liberty  to  share  equally  with  the 
four  surviving  persons." 

"  And  wherefore  among  us  four?"  inquired  Caderousse. 

"  As  being  the  friends  Edmond  esteemed  most  faithful 
and  devoted  to  him." 

"I  don't  call  those  friends  who  betray  and  ruin  you," 
murmured  the  wife,  in  her  turn,  in  a  low,  muttering 
voice. 

"  Of  course  not!"  rejoined  Caderousse,  quickly;  "  no 
more  do  I,  and  that  was  what  I  was  observing  to  this  gen- 
tleman just  now.  I  said  I  looked  upon  it  as  a  sacrilegious 
profanation  to  reward  treachery,  perhaps  crime." 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRI8TO.  251 

"  Remember/'  answered  the  abbe,  calmly,  as  he  replaced 
the  jewel  and  its  case  in  the  pocket  of  his  cassock,  "  it  is 
your  fault,  not  mine,  that  I  do  so.  You  will  have  the 
goodness  to  furnish  me  with  the  address  of  both  Fernand 
and  Danglers,  in  order  that  I  may  execute  Edmond's  last 
wishes." 

The  agitation  of  Caderousse  became  extreme  and  large 
drops  of  perspiration  rolled  from  his  heated  brow.  As  he 
saw  the  abbe  rise  from  his  seat  and  go  toward  the  door,  as 
though  to  ascertain  if  his  horse  were  sufficiently  refreshed 
to  continue  his  journey,  Caderousse  and  his  wife  exchanged 
looks  of  deep  meaning  with  each  other. 

"  There,  you  see,  wife,"  said  the  former,  "  this  splendid 
diamond  might  all  be  ours  if  we  chose." 

"  Do  you  believe  it?" 

"Why,  surely  a  man  of  his  holy  profession  would  not 
deceive  us!" 

"Well,"  replied  La  Carconte,  do  as  you  like.  For  my 
part,  I  wash  my  hands  of  the  affair." 

So  saying,  she  once  more  climbed  the  staircase  leading 
to  her  chamber,  her  frame  shuddering  with  aguish  chills 
and  her  teeth  rattling  in  her  head,  spite  of  the  intense 
heat  of  the  weather.  Arrived  at  the  top  stair,  she  turned 
round  and  called  out,  in  a  warning  tone,  to  her  hus- 
band: 

"  Gaspard,  consider  well  what  you  are  about  to  do!" 

"  I  have  both  reflected  and  decided,"  answered  he. 

La  Carconte  then  entered  her  chamber,  the  flooring  of 
which  creaked  beneath  her  heavy,  uncertain  tread  as  she 
proceeded  toward  her  arm-chair,  into  which  she  fell  as 
though  exhausted. 

"  Well,"  asked  the  abbe,  as  he  returned  to  the  apartment 
below,  "  what  have  you  made  up  your  mind  to  do.1'" 

"  To  tell  you  all  I  know,"  was  the  reply. 

"  I  certainly  think  you  act  wisely  in  so  doing,"  said  the 
priest.  Not  because  I  have  the  least  desire  to  learn  any- 
thing you  may  desire  to  conceal  from  me,  but  simply  that 
if,  through  your  assistance,  I  could  distribute  the  legacy 
according  to  the  wishes  of  the  testator,  why,  so  much  the 
better;  that  is  all." 

"  I  trust,  indeed,  such  will  be  the  case,  and  that  poor 
Edmond's  dying  bequest  will  be  given  only  to  such  as  you 
shall  be  convinced  are  his  faithful  and  attached  friends," 


252  THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO. 

replied  Caderousse,  his  eyes  sparkling  and  his  face  flushed 
with  the  hope  of  obtaining  all  himself. 

"  Now,  then,  begin,  if  you  please/'  said  the  abbe;  "  I 
am  all  attention." 

"  Stop  a  minute,"  answered  Caderousse;  "  we  might  be 
interrupted  in  the  most  interesting  part  of  my  recital, 
which  would  be  a  pity;  and  it  is  as  well  that  your  visit 
hither  should  be  made  known  only  to  ourselves." 

With  these  words  he  went  stealthily  to  the  door,  which 
he  closed,  and,  by  way  of  still  greater  precaution,  bolted 
and  barred  it,  as  he  was  accustomed  to  do  at  night. 

During  this  time  the  abbe  had  chosen  his  place  for  lis- 
tening to  the  painful  recital  he  expected  Caderonsse's 
would  prove.  He  removed  his  seat  into  the  corner  of  a 
room,  where  he  himself  would  be  in  deep  shadow,  while 
the  light  would  be  fully  thrown  on  the  narrator;  then, 
with  head  bent  down  and  hands  clasped,  or  rather  clinched 
together,  he  prepared  to  give  his  whole  attention  to 
Caderousse,  who  seated  himself  on  the  little  stool  exactly 
opposite  to  him. 

"  Eemember,  I  did  not  urge  you  to  this,"  said  the  trem- 
bling voice  of  La  Carconte,  as  though  through  the  flooring 
of  her  chamber  she  viewed  the  scene  that  was  enacting 
below. 

"  Enough,  enough!"  replied  Caderousse;  "  say  no  more 
about  it;  I  will  take  all  the  consequences  upon  myself." 
He  then  commenced  as  follows: 


CHAPTER  XXVII. 

THE   RECITAL. 

"  FIRST,  sir,"  said  Caderousse,  "  you  must  make  me  a 
promise." 

"  What  is  that?"  inquired  the  abbe. 

"  Why,  if  you  ever  make  use  of  the  details  I  am  about  to 
give  you  that  you  will  never  let  any  one  know  that  it  was  I 
who  supplied  them,  for  the  persons  of  whom  I  am  about  to 
talk  are  rich  and  powerful,  and  if  they  only  laid  the  tips 
of  their  fingers  on  me  I  should  break  to  pieces  like  glass." 

"  Make  yourself  easy,  my  friend/'  replied  the  abbe.  "  I 
am  a  priest  and  confessions  die  in  my  breast.  Recollect 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CR18TO.  263 

our  only  desire  is  to  carry  out,  in  a  fitting  manner,  the  last 
wishes  of  our  friend.  Speak,  then,  without  reserve,  as 
without  hatred;  tell  the  truth — the  whole  truth;  I  do  not 
know — never  may  know — the  persons  of  whom  you  are 
about  to  speak;  besides,  I  am  an  Italian,  and  not  a  French- 
man, and  belong  to  God,  and  not  to  man;  and  I  retire  to 
my  convent,  which  I  have  only  quitted  to  fulfill  the  last, 
wishes  of  a  dying  man." 

This  last  assurance  seemed  to  give  Caderousse  courage. 

"  Well,  then,  under  these  circumstances,"  said  Cade- 
rousse, "  I  will;  indeed,  I  ought  to  undeceive  you  as  to  the 
friendship  which  poor  Edmond  believed  so  sincere  and  un- 
questionable. " 

"  Begin  with  his  father,  if  you  please,"  said  the  abbe. 
"  Edmond  talked  a  great  deal  to  me  about  the  old  man, 
for  whom  he  had  the  deepest  love." 

"  The  history  is  a  sad  one,  sir,"  said  Caderousse,  shaking 
his  head;  perhaps  you  know  all  the  earlier  part  of  it?" 

"  Yes,"  answered  the  abbe;  "  Edmond  related  to  me 
everything  until  the  moment  when  he  was  arrested  in  a 
a  small  cabaret  close  to  Marseilles." 

"At  La  Reserve!  Oh,  yes!  I  can  see  it  all  before  me 
this  moment." 

"  Was  it  not  his  betrothal  feast?" 

"  It  was;  and  the  feast  that  began  so  gaily  had  a  very 
sorrowful  ending;  a  commissary  of  police,  followed  by  four 
soldiers,  entered  and  Dante_s  was  arrested." 

"  Yes,  and  up  to  this  point  I  know  all,"  said  the  priest. 
"  Dantes  himself  only  knew  that  which  personally  con- 
cerned him,  for  he  never  beheld  again  the  five  persons  I 
have  named  to  you,  nor  heard  mention  of  any  one  of 
them." 

"  Well,  when  Dantes  was  arrested,  M.  Morrel  hastened 
to  obtain  the  particulars,  and  they  were  very  sad.  The  old 
man  returned  alone  to  his  home,  folded  up  his  wedding 
suit  with  tears  in  his  eyes,  and  paced  up  and  down  his 
chamber  the  whole  day,  and  would  not  go  to  bed  at  all,  for 
I  was  underneath  him  and  heard  him  walking  the  whole 
night;  and,  for  myself,  I  assure  you  I  could  not  sleep 
either,  for  the  grief  of  the  poor  father  gave  me  groat 
uneasiness,  and  every  step  he  took  went  to  my  heart  as 
really  as  if  his  foot  had  pressed  against  my  breast.  The 
next  day  Mercedes  came  to  implore  the  protection  of 


254  THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRI8TO. 

M.  de  Villefort;  she  did  not  obtain  it,  however,  and  went 
to  visit  the  old  man;  when  she  saw  him  so  miserable  and 
heart-broken,  having  passed  a  sleepless  night,  and  not 
touched  food  since  the  previous  day,  she  wished  him  to  go 
with  her  that  she  might  take  care  of  him,  but  the  old  man 
would  not  consent.  '  No/  was  the  old  man's  reply,  '  I  will 
•not  leave  this  house,  for  my  poor,  dear  boy  loves  me  better 
than  anything  in  the  world;  and  if  he  gets  out  of  prison 
he  will  come  and  see  me  the  first  thing,  and  what  would  he 
think  if  I  did  not  wait  here  for  him  ?'  I  heard  all  this 
from  the  window,  for  I  was  anxious  that  Mercedes  should 
persuade  the  old  man  to  accompany  her,  for  his  footsteps 
over  my  head  night  and  day  did  not  leave  me  a  moment's 
repose." 

"  But  did  you  not  go  upstairs  and  try  to  console  the 
poor  old  man  ?"  asked  the  abbe. 

"  Ah,  sir,"  replied  Caderousse,  "  we  cannot  console  those 
who  will  not  be  consoled,  and  he  was  one  of  these;  besides, 
I  know  not  why,  but  he  seemed  to  dislike  seeing  me.  One 
night,  however,  I  heard  his  sobs,  and  I  could  not  resist  my 
desire  to  go  up  to  him,  but  when  I  reached  his  door  he  was 
no  longer  weeping,  but  praying;  I  cannot  now  repeat  to 
you,  sir,  all  the  eloquent  words  and  imploring  language  he 
made  use  of ;  it  was  more  than  piety,  it  was  more  than 
grief;  and  I,  who  am  no  canter,  and  hate  the  Jesuits,  said 
then  to  myself:  '  It  is  really  well,  and  I  am  very  glad  that  I 
have  not  any  children;  for  if  I  were  a  father  and  felt  such 
excessive  grief  as  the  old  man  does,  and  did  not  find  in  my 
memory  or  heart  all  he  is  now  saying,  I  should  throw  myself 
into  the  sea  at  once,  for  I  could  not  bear  it.' " 

"  Poor  father  !"  murmured  the  priest. 

"From  day  to  day  he  lived  on  alone,  and  more  and  more 
solitary.  M.  Morrel  and  Mercedes  came  to  see  him,  but 
his  door  was  closed;  and,  although  I  was  certain  he  was 
at  home  he  would  not  make  any  answer.  One  day,  when, 
contrary  to  his  custom,  he  admitted  Mercedes,  and  the 
poor  girl,  in  spite  of  her  own  grief  and  despair,  endeavored 
to  console  him,  he  said  to  her:  'Be  assured,  my  dear 
daughter,  he  is  dead;  and  instead  of  expecting  him,  it  is 
he  who  is  awaiting  us;  I  am  quite  happy,  for  I  am  the 
oldest,  and  of  course  shall  see  him  first.'  However  well 
disposed  a  person  may  be,  why  you  see  we  leave  off  after  a 
time  seeing  persons  who  are  in  sorrow,  they  make  one 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRI8TO.  255 

melancholy,  and  so  at  last  old  Dantes  was  left  all  to  him- 
self, and  I  only  saw  from  time  to  time  strangers  go  up  to 
him  and  come  down  again  with  some  bundle  they  tried  to 
hide;  but  I  guessed  what  these  bundles  were,  and  he  sold 
by  degrees  what_  he  had  to  pay  for  his  subsistence.  At 
length  the  poor  o'ld  fellow  reached  the  end  of  all  he  had; 
he  owed  three  quarters'  rent,  and  they  threatened  to  turn 
him  out;  he  begged  for  another  week,  which  was  granted 
to  him.  I  know  this,  because  the  landlord  came  into  my 
apartment  when  he  left  his.  For  the  first  three  days  I 
heard  him  walking  about  as  usual,  but  on  the  fourth  I 
heard  him  no  longer.  I  then  resolved  to  go  up  to  him  at  all 
risks.  The  door  was  closed,  but  I  looked  through  the  key- 
hole, and  saw  him  so  pale  and  haggard,  that  believing  him 
very  ill,  I  went  and  told  M.  Morrel  and  then  ran  onto  Mer- 
cedes. The  both  came  immediately,  M.  Morrel  bringing 
a  doctor,  and  the  doctor  said  it  was  an  affection  of  the 
stomach,  and  ordered  him  a  limited  diet.  I  was  there,  too, 
and  I  never  shall  forget  the  old  man's  smile  at  this  pre- 
scription. From  that  time  he  opened  his  door  he  had  an 
excuse  for  not  eating  any  more,  as  the  doctor  had  put  him 
on  a  diet." 

The  abbe  uttered  a  kind  of  groan. 

"  The  story  interests  you,  does  it  not,  sir,"  inquired 
Caderousse. 

"  Yes,"  replied  the  abbe,  "it  is  very  affecting. 

"  Mercedes  came  again,  and  she  found  him  so  altered 
that  she  was  even  more  anxious  than  before  to  have  him 
taken  to  her  own  abode.  This  was  M.  Morrel'fl  wish  also, who 
would  fain  have  conveyed  the  old  man  against  his  consent; 
but  the  old  man  resisted,  and  cried  so  that  they  were 
actually  frightened.  Mercedes  remained,  therefore,  by  his 
bedside,  and  M.  Morrel  went  away,  making  a  sign  to  the 
Catalan  that  he  had  left  his  purse  on  the  chimney-piece. 
But  availing  himself  of  the  doctor's  order,  the  old  man 
would  not  take  any  sustenance;  at  length  (after  nine  days' 
despair  and  fasting)  the  old  man  died,  cursing  those  who 
had  caused  his  misery,  and  saying  to  Mercedes:  *  If  you 
ever  see  my  Edmond  again,  tell  him  I  die  blessing 
him.'" 

The  abbe  rose  from  his  chair,  made  two  turns  round  the 
chamber  and  pressed  his  trembling  hand-  against  his 
parched  throat. 


256  TEE  CO  UNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO. 

"  And  you  believe  he  died " 

"  Of  hunger,  sir,  of  hunger,"  said  Caderousse.  "  I  am 
as  certain  of  it  as  that  we  two  are  Christians." 

The  abbe,  with  a  shaking  hand,  seized  a  glass  of  water 
that  was  standing  by  him  half  full,  swallowed  it  at  one  gulp, 
and  then  resumed  his  seat  with  red  eyes  and  pale  cheeks. 

"  This  was,  indeed,  a  horrid  event,"  said  he,  in  a  hoarse 
,  voice. 

"  The  more  so,  sir,  as  it  was  men 'a  and  not  God's  doing." 

"  Tell  me  of  those  men,"  said  the  abbe,  "and  remem- 
ber, too,  he  added,  in  a  voice  that  was  nearly  menacing  in 
its  tone,  "  you  have  promised  to  tell  me  everything. 
Tell  me,  therefore,  who  are  these  men  who  have  killed  the 
son  with  despair;  and  the  father  with  famine  ?" 

"  Two  men  jealous  of  him,  sir;  one  from  love,  the  other 
ambition — Fernand  and  Danglers." 

"  Say,  how  was  this  jealousy  manifested  ?" 

"  They  denounced  Edmond  as  a  Bonapartist  agent/' 

"  Which  of  the  two  denounced  him  ?  Which  was  the 
real  delinquent  ?" 

"  Both,  sir;  one  with  a  letter,  and  the  other  put  it  in 
the  post." 

"  And  where  was  this  letter  written  ?" 

"  At  La  Reserve,  the  dav  before  the  festival  of  the  be- 
trothing." 

"  'Twas  so,  then — 'twas  so,  then,"  murmurred  the  abbe. 
"  0,  Faria,  Faria !  how  well  did  you  judge  men  and 
things  !" 

"What  did  you  please  to  say,  sir  ?"  asked  Caderousse. 

" Nothing,  nothing,"  replied  the  priest;  "go  on." 

"  It  was  Danglars  who  wrote  the  denunciation  with  his 
left  hand,  that  his  writing  might  not  be  recognized,  and 
Fernand  who  put  it  in  the  post." 

"But,"  exclaimed  the  abbe,  suddenly,  "you  were  there 
yourself." 

"  I  !"  said  Caderousse,  astonished;  "  who  told  you  I  was 
there?" 

The  abbe  saw  that  he  had  overshot  the  mark,  and  he 
added  quickly: 

"  No  one;  but  in  order  to  have  known  everything  so 
well,  you  must  have  been  an  eye-witness." 

"  True,  true  1"  said  Caderousse,  in  a  choking  voice,  "  I 
was  there" 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRI8TO.  257 

"And  did  you  not  remonstrate  against  such  infamy  ?" 
asked  the  abbe,  "if  not  you  were  an  accomplice." 

"  Sir,"  replied  Caderousse,  "  they  had  made  me  drink 
to  such  an  excess  that  I  nearly  lost  all  perception.  I  had 
only  an  indistinct  understanding  of  what  was  passing  around 
me.  I  said  all  that  a  man  in  such  a  state  could  say;  but 
they  both  assured  me  that  it  was  a  jest  they  were  carrying 
on,  and  perfectly  harmless." 

"Next  day — next  day,  sir,  you  must  have  seen  plain 
enough  what  they  had  been  doing,  yet  you  said  nothing, 
though  you  were  present  when  Dantes  was  arrested." 

"  Yes,  sir,  I  was  there,  and  very  anxious  to  speak  !  but 
Danglars  restrained  me.  '  If  he  should  really  be  guilty,' 
said  he,  '  and  did  really  put  in  to  the  Isle  of  Elba;  if  he  is 
really  charged  with  a  letter  for  the  Bonapartist  committee 
at  Paris,  and  if  they  find  this  letter  upon  him,  those  who 
have  supported  him  will  pass  for  his  accomplices/  I  con- 
fess I  had  my  fears,  in  the  state  in  which  politics  then  were, 
and  I  held  my  tongue.  It  was  cowardly,  I  confess,  but  it 
was  not  criminal." 

"  I  comprehend — you  allowed  matters  to  take  their 
course,  that  was  all." 

"Yes,  sir,"  answered  Caderousse,  "and  my  remorse 
prays  on  me  night  and  day.  I  often  ask  pardon  of  God,  I 
swear  to  you,  because  this  action,  the  only  one  with  which 
I  have  seriously  to  reproach  myself  in  all  my  life,  is  no 
doubt  the  cause  of  my  abject  condition.  I  am  expiating  a 
moment  of  selfishness  and  thus  it  is  I  always  say  to  Car- 
con  te,  when  she  complains,  '  Hold  your  tongue,  woman;  it 
is  the  will  of  God.'"  And  Caderousse  bowed  his  head  with 
every  sign  of  real  repentance. 

"'Well,  sir,"  said  the  abbe,  "you  have  spoken  unre- 
servedly ;  and  thus  to  accuse  yourself  is  to  deserve 
pardon." 

"  Unfortunately,  Edmond  is  dead,  and  has  not  pardoned 
me." 

"He  was  ignorant,"  said  the  abbe. 

"But  he  knows  it  all  now,"  interrupted  Caderousse; 
"  they  say  the  dead  know  everything."  There  was  a  brief 
silence;  the  abbe  rose  and  paced  up  and  down  pensively 
and  then  resumed  his  seat.  "  You  have  two  or  three 
times  mentioned  a  M.  Morrel/'  he  said;  "  who  was  he?" 

"  The  owner  of  the  pharaon  and  patron  of  Dantes." 


258  THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO. 

"And  what  part  did  he  play  in  this  sad  drama?"  in- 
quired the  abbe. 

"  The  part  of  an  honest  man,  full  of  courage  and  real 
regard.  Twenty  times  he  interceded  for  Edmond.  When 
the  emperor  returned  he  wrote,  implored,  threatened  and 
so  energetically,  that  on  the  second  restoration  he  was  per- 
secuted as  a  Bonapartist.  Ten  times,  as  I  told  you,  he 
came  to  see  DauteV  father  and  offered  to  receive  him  in  his 
own  house;  and  the  night  or  two  before  his  death,  as  I 
have  already  said,  he  left  his  purse  on  the  mantelpiece, 
with  which  they  paid  the  old  man's  debts  and  buried  him 
decently;  and  then  Edmond's  father  died,  as  he  had  lived, 
without  doing  harm  to  any  one.  I  have  the  purse  still  by 
me — a  large  one  made  of  red  silk." 

"  And,"  asked  the  abbe,  «  is  M.  Morrel  still  alive?" 

"  Yes,"  replied  Caderousse. 

"  In  this  case,"  replied  the  abbe,  "  he  should  be  rich, 
happy."  Caderousse  smiled  bitterly.  "  Yes,  happy  as 
myself,"  said  he. 

"What!  M.  Morrel  unhappy!"  exclaimed  the  abbe. 

"  He  is  reduced  almost  to  the  last  extremity — nay,  he  is 
almost  at  the  point  of  dishonor." 

"How?" 

"Yes,"  continued  Caderousse,  "and  in  this  way,  after 
five-and-twenty  years  of  labor,  after  having  acquired  a 
most  honorable  name  in  the  trade  of  Marseilles,  M.  Morrel 
is  utterly  ruined;  he  has  lost  five  ships  in  two  years,  has 
suffered  by  the  bankruptcy  of  three  large  houses  and  his 
only  hope  now  is  in  that  very  Pharaon  which  poor  Dantes 
commanded  and  which  is  expected  from  the  Indies  with  a 
cargo  of  cochineal  and  indigo.  If  this  ship  founders,  like 
the  others,  he  is  a  ruined  man." 

"And  has  the  unfortunate  man  wife  or  children?"  in- 
quired the  abbe. 

"  Yes,  he  has  a  wife,  who  in  all  this  behaved  like  an 
angel;  he  has  a  daughter,  who  was  about  to  marry  the  man 
she  loved,  but  whose  family  now  will  not  allow  him  to  wed 
the  daughter  of  a  ruined  man;  he  has,  besides,  a  son,  a 
lieutenant  in  the  army;  and,  as  you  may  suppose,  all  this, 
instead  of  soothing,  doubles  his  grief.  If  he  were  alone  in 
the  world  he  would  blow  out  his  brains  and  there  would  be 
an  end." 

"Horrible!"  ejaculated  the  priest. 


THE  CO  UNT  OP  MONTE  CRISTO.  259 

"And  it  is  thus  heaven  recompenses  virtue,  sir,"  added 
Caderousse.  "  You  see,  I,  who  never  did  a  bad  action  but 
that  I  have  told  you  of — am  in  destitution,  after  having 
seen  my  poor  wife  die  of  a  fever,  unable  to  do  anything  in 
the  world  for  her;  I  shall  die  of  hunger,  as  old  Daut&s 
did,  while  Fernand  and  Danglars  are  rolling  in  wealth." 

"How  is  that?" 

"Because  all  their  malpractices  have  turned  to  luck, 
while  honest  men  have  been  reduced  to  misery." 

"  What  has  become  of  Danglars,  the  instigator,  and, 
therefore,  the  most  guilty?" 

"What  has  become  of  him?  Why,  he  left  Marseilles, 
and  was  taken,  on  the  recommendation  of  M.  Morrel,  who 
did  not  know  his  crime,  as  cashier  into  a  Spanish  bank. 
During  the  war  with  Spain  he  was  employed  in  the  com- 
missariat of  the  French  army  and  made  a  fortune;  then, 
with  that  money  he  speculated  in  the  funds  and  trebled  or 
quadrupled  his  capital  ;  and,  having  first  married  his 
banker's  daughter,  who  left  him  a  widower,  he  has  married 
a  second  time,  a  widow,  a  Mme.  de  Nargonne,  daughter 
of  M.  de  Servieux,  the  king's  chamberlain,  who  is  in  high 
favor  at  court.  He  is  a  millionaire,  and  they  have  made 
him  a  count,  and  now  he  is  Le  Comte  Danglars,  with  an 
hotel  in  the  Rue  de  Mont  Blanc,  with  ten  horses  in  his 
stables,  six  footmen  in  his  ante-chamber  and  I  know  not 
how  many  hundreds  of  thousands  in  his  strong-box." 

Ah!"    said   the  abbe,  with  a  peculiar  tone,  "he  is 


ippy!  who  can  answer  for  that  ?  Happiness  or  un- 
happiness  is  the  secret  known  but  to  one's  self  and  the 
walls — walls  have  ears  but  no  tongue  ;  but  if  a  large 
fortune  produces  happiness,  Danglars  is  happy." 

"And  Fernand?" 

"Fernand  !  why,  that  is  another  history." 

"  But  how  could  a  poor  Catalan  fisher-boy,  without  edu- 
cation or  resources,  make  a  fortune  ?  I  confess  this 
staggers  me." 

"  And  it  has  staggered  everybody.  There  must  have 
been  in  his  life  some  strange  secret  no  one  knows." 

"  But,  then,  by  what  visible  steps  has  he  attained  this 
high  fortune  or  high  position?" 

"  Both,  sir — he  has  both  fortune  and  position — both." 

"This  must  be  impossiblel" 


260  THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  VRISTO. 

"It  would  seem  so;  but  listen,  and  you  will  understand. 
Some  days  before  the  return  of  the  emperor,  Fernand  was 
drawn  in  the  conscription.  The  Bourbons  left  him  quietly 
enough  at  the  Catalans,  but  Napoleon  returned,  an  extraor- 
dinary muster  was  determined  on  and  Fernand  was  com- 
pelled to  join.  I  went,  too;  but,  as  I  was  older  than  Fer- 
nand and  had  just  married  my  poor  wife,  I  was  only  sent 
to  the  coast.  Fernand  was  enrolled  in  the  active  troop, 
went  to  the  frontier  with  his  regiment  and  was  at  the 
battle  of  Ligny.  The  night  after  that  battle  he  was  sentry 
at  the  door  of  a  general  who  carried  on  a  secret  correspon- 
dence with  the  enemy.  The  same  night  the  general  was  to 
go  over  to  the  English.  He  proposed  to  Fernand  to 
accompany  him,  Fernaud  agreed  to  do  so,  deserted  his 
post  and  followed  the  general.  That  which  would  have 
brought  Fernand  to  a  court-martial  if  Napoleon  remained 
on  the  throne,  served  for  his  recommendation  to  the  Bour- 
bons. He  returned  to  France  with  the  epaulette  of  sub- 
lieutenant and  as  the  protection  of  the  general,  who  is  in 
the  highest  favor,  was  accorded  to  him,  he  was  a  captain  in 
1823,  during  the  Spanish  war — that  is  to  say,  at  the  time 
when  Danglars  made  his  early  speculations.  Fernand  was 
%  Spaniard,  and,  being  sent  to  Spain  to  ascertain  the  feel- 
mg  of  his  fellow-countrymen,  found  Danglars  there, 
became  on  very  intimate  terms  with  him,  procured  his 
general  support  from  the  royalists  of  the  capital  and  the 
provinces,  received  promises  and  made  pledges  on  his  own 
part,  guided  his  regiment  by  paths  known  to  himself  alone 
in  gorges  of  the  mountains  kept  by  the  royalists,  and,  in 
fact,  rendered  such  services  in  this  brief  campaign  that, 
after  the  taking  of  Trocadero,  he  was  made  colonel,  and 
received  the  title  of  count  and  the  cross  of  an  officer  of  the 
Legion  of  Honor." 

"Destiny  !  destiny  !"  murmured  the  abbe. 

"  Yes,  but  listen;  this  was  not  all.  The  war  with  Spain 
being  ended,  Fernand's  career  was  checked  by  the  long 
peace  which  seemed  likely  to  endure  throughout  ^Europe. 
Greece  only  had  risen  against  Turkey,  and  had  begun  her 
war  of  independence;  all  eyes  were  turned  towards  Athens 
— it  was  the  fashion  to  pity  and  support  the  Greeks. 
The  French  government,  without  protecting  them  openly, 
as  you  know,  tolerated  partial  migrations.  Fernand 
sought  and  obtained  leave  to  go  and  serve  in  Greece,  still 


THE  COUNT  OP  MONTE  CRI8TO.  261 

having  his  name  kept  in  the  ranks  of  the  army.  Some 
time  after,  it  was  stated  that  the  Comte  de  Morcerf  (this 
was  the  name  he  bore)  had  entered  the  service  of  All 
Pacha  with  the  rank  of  instructor-general.  Ali  Pacha 
was  killed,  as  you  know;  but  before  he  died  he  recom- 
pensed the  services  of  Fernand  by  leaving  him  a  con- 
siderable sum,  with  which  he  returned  to  France,  when 
his  rank  of  lieutenant-general  was  confirmed." 

"  So  that  now "  inquired  the  abbe. 

"  So  that  now,"  continued  Caderousse,  "  he  possesses  a 
magnificent  hotel — No.  27,  Rue  du  Helder,  Paris." 

The  abbe  opened  his  mouth,  remained  for  a  moment  like 
a  man  who  hesitates,  then,  making  an  effort  over  himself, 
he  said,  "  And  Mercedes — they  tell  me  that  she  has  dis- 
appeared ?" 

"  Disappeared,"  said  Caderousse,  "  yes,  as  the  sun  dis- 
appears, to  rise  the  next  day  with  still  more  splendor." 

"  Has  she  made  a  fortune  also  ?"  inquired  the  abbe, 
with  an  ironical  smile. 

"  Mercedes  is  at  this  moment  one  of  the  greatest  ladies 
in  Paris,"  replied  Caderousse. 

"  Go  on,"  said  the  abbe;  "  it  seems  as  if  I  were  hearing 
the  recital  of  a  dream.  But  I  have  seen  things  so  extra- 
ordinary, that  those  you  mention  to  me  seem  less  astonish- 
ing." 

"  Mercedes  was  at  first  in  the  deepest  despair  at  the  blow 
which  deprived  her  of  Edmond.  I  have  told  you  of  her 
attempts  to  propitiate  M.  de  Villefort,  her  devotion  to  the 
father  of  Dant6s.  In  the  midst  of  her  despair,  a  fresh 
trouble  overtook  her.  This  was  the  departure  of  Fernand 
— of  Fernand,  whose  crime  she  did  not  know,  and  whom, 
she  regarded  as  her  brother.  Fernand  went,  and  Mer- 
cedes remaiuded  alone.  Three  months  passed  and  found 
her  all  tears — no  news  of  Edmond,  no  news  of  Fernand, 
nothing  before  her  but  an  old  man  who  was  dying  with 
despair.  One  evening,  after  having  been  seated,  as  was 
her  custom,  all  day  at  the  angle  of  two  roads  that  lead  to 
Marseilles  from  the  Catalans,  she  returned  to  her  home 
more  depressed  than  ever;  neither  her  lover  nor  her  friend 
returned  by  either  of  these  roads,  and  she  had  no  in- 
telligence of  one  or  the  other.  Suddenly  she  heard  a  step 
she  knew,  turned  round  anxiously,  the  door  opened,  and 
Fernand,  dressed  in  the  uniform  of  a  sub-lieutenant,  stood 

DUMAS— VOL.  I.— 12 


262  THE  CO  UNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO. 

before  her.  It  was  not  the  half  that  she  bewailed,  but  it 
was  a  portion  of  her  past  life  that  returned  to  her.  Mer- 
cedes seized  Feruaud's  hands  with  a  transport  which  he 
took  for  love,  but  which  was  only  joy  at  being  no  longer 
alone  in  the  world,  and  seeing  at  last  a  friend,  after  long 
hours  of  solitary  sorrow.  And  then,  it  must  be  confessed, 
Fernand  had  never  been  hated — he  was  only  not  precisely 
loved.  Another  possessed  all  Merce'deV  heart;  that  other 
was  absent,  had  disappeared,  perhaps  was  dead.  At  this 
last  idea  Mercedes  burst  into  a  flood  of  tears,  and  wrung 
her  hands  in  agony;  but  this  idea,  which  she  had  always 
repelled  before  when  it  was  suggested  to  her  by  another, 
came  now  in  full  force  upon  her  mind;  and  then,  too, 
old  Dante's  incessantly  said  to  her,  '  Our  Edmond  is  dead; 
if  he  were  not,  he  would  return  to  us.'  The  old  man  died, 
as  I  have  told  you;  had  he  lived,  Mercedes,  perchance,  had 
not  become  the  wife  of  another,  for  he  would  have  been 
there  to  reproach  her  infidelity.  Fernand  saw  this,  and 
when  he  learned  the  old  man's  death  he  returned.  He 
was  now  a  lieutenant.  At  his  first  coming  he  had  not  said 
a  word  of  love  to  Merc6d£s;  at  the  second  he  reminded  her 
that  he  loved  her.  Mercedes  begged  for  six  months  more 
to  expect  and  bewail  Edmond." 

"So  that,"  said  abbe,  with  a  bitter  smile,  "that  makes 
eighteen  months  in  all.  What  more  could  the  most  de- 
voted lover  desire?"  Then  he  murmured  the  words  of 
ihe  English  poet,"  'Frailty,  thy  name  is  woman/  " 

"Six  months  afterwards,"  continued  Caderousse,  "the 
marriage  took  place  in  the  church  of  Accoules." 

"  The  very  church  in  which  she  was  to  have  married 
Edmond,"  murmured  the  priest;  "there  was  only  a  change 
of  bridegroom." 

"  Well,  Mercedes  was  married,"  proceeded  Caderousi*.;, 
"  but  although  in  the  eyes  of  the  world  she  appeared  calm, 
she  nearly  fainted  as  she  passed  La  Reserve,  where,  eigh- 
teen months  before,  the  betrothal  had  been  celebrated  with 
him  whom  she  would  have  seen  she  still  loved  had  she 
looked  at  the  bottom  of  her  heart.  Fernand,  more  happy, 
but  not  more  at  his  ease — for  I  saw  at  this  time  he  was 
in  constant  dread  of  Edmond's  return — Fernand  was  very 
anxious  to  get  his  wife  away,  and  to  depart  himself. 
There  were  too  many  dangers  and  recollections  associated 
with  the  Catalans,  and  eight  days  after  the  wedding  they 
left  Marseilles." 


'CADEROUSSE  STARTED  AND  TURNED  PALE.     'FALSE!'  HE  MUTTERED 
'FALSE!  WHY  SHOULD  THAT  MAN  GIVE  ME  A  FALSE  DIAMOND?'" 

Dumas,  I  W.  <  >ae 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO.  263 

"  Did  you  ever  see  Mercedes  again  ?"  inquired  the  priest. 

"  Yes,  during  the  war  of  Spain,  at  Perpignan,  where 
Fernand  had  left  her;  she  was  attending  to  the  education 
of  her  son." 

The  abbe  started.     "  Her  son?"  said  he. 

"Yes,"  replied  Caderousse,  "little  Albert." 

"  But,  then,  to  be  able  to  instruct  her  child, "con tinned 
the  abbe,  "  she  must  have  received  an  education  herself. 
I  understood  from  Edmpnd  that  she  was  the  daughter  of  a 
simple  fisherman,  beautiful  but  uneducated." 

"  Oh  !"  replied  Caderousse,  "did he  know  so  little  of  his 
lovely  betrothed  ?  Mercedes  might  have  been  a  queen, 
sir,  if  the  crown  were  to  be  placed  on  the  heads  of  the 
loveliest  and  most  intelligent.  Fernandas  fortune  already 
became  greater,  and  she  became  greater  with  his  growing 
fortune.  She  learned  drawing,  music — everything.  Be- 
sides, I  believe,  between  ourselves,  she  did  this  in  order 
to  distract  her  mind,  that  she  might  forget;  and  she  only 
filled  her  head  thus  in  order  to  alleviate  the  weight  on  her 
heart.  But  now  everything  must  be  told,"  continued 
Caderousse;  "no  doubt  fortune  and  honors  have  con- 
fronted her;  she  is  rich,  a  countess,  and  yet " 

Caderousse  paused. 

"  And  yet  what  ?"  asked  the  abbe. 

"  Yet,  I  am  sure,  she  is  not  happy,"  said  Caderonsse. 

"  What  makes  you  believe  this  t" 

"  Why,  when  I  have  found  myself  very  wretched,  I  have 
thought  my  old  friends  would,  perhaps,  assist  me.  So  I 
went  to  Danglars,  who  would  not  even  receive  me.  I 
called  on  Fernaud,  who  sent  me  a  100  francs  by  his  valefr- 
de-chambre." 

"Then  you  did  not  see  either  of  them?" 

"  No;  but  Mme.  de  Morcerf  saw  me." 

"  How  was  that  ?" 

"  As  I  went  away  a  purse  fell  at  my  feet — it  contained 
25  louis;  I  raised  my  head  quickly,  and  saw  Mercedes,  who 
shut  the  blinds  directly." 

"And  M.  de  Villefort?"  asked  the  abbe. 

"  Oh,  he  never  was  a  friend  of  mine,  I  did  not  know 
him,  and  I  had  nothing  to  ask  of  him." 

"  Do  you  not  know  what  became  of  him,  and  the  share  ho 
had  in  Edmond's  misfortunes?" 

"  No;  I  only  know  that  some  time  after  having  arrested 


264  THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO. 

him,  lie  married  Mdlle.  de  Saint  Meran,  and  soon  after 
left  Marseilles;  no  doubt  but  he  has  been  as  lucky  as  the 
rest;  no  doubt  he  is  as  rich  as  Danglars,  as  high  in  station 
as  Fernand.  I  only,  as  you  see,  have  remained  poor, 
wretched,  and  forgotten." 

"  You  are  mistaken,  my  friend,"  replied  the  abbe;  "God 
may  seem  sometimes  to  forget  for  a  while,  while  His  justice 
reposes,  but  there  always  comes  a  moment  when  He  remem- 
bers— and  behold!  a  proof." 

As  he  spoke,  the  abbe  took  the  diamond  from  his  pocket, 
and  giving  it  to  Caderousse,  said: 

"  Here,  my  friend,  take  this  diamond,  it  is  yours." 

"What!  for  me  only?"  cried  Caderousse;  "ah!  sir,  do 
not  jest  with  me!" 

"  This  diamond  was  to  have  been  shared  among  his 
friends.  Edmond  had  one  friend  only,  and  thus  it  cannot 
be  divided.  Take  the  diamond,  then,  and  sell  it ;  it  is 
worth  50,000  francs  (£2,000),  and  I  repeat  my  wish  that 
this  sum  may  suffice  to  release  you  from  your  wretched- 


"Oh,  sir,"  said  Caderousse,  putting  out  one  hand 
timidly,  and  with  the  other  wiping  away  the  perspiration 
which  bedewed  his  brow,  "  Oh,  sir,  do  not  make  a  jest  of 
the  happiness  or  despair  of  a  man." 

"I  know  what  happiness  and  what  despair  are,  and  I 
never  make  a  jest  of  such  feelings.  Take  it,  then,  put 
in  exchange " 

Caderousse,  who  touched  the  diamond,  withdrew  his 
hand.  The  abb6  smiled. 

"In  exchange,"  he  continued,  "give  me  the  red  silk 
purse  that  M.  Morrel  left  on  old  Dantes'  chimney-piece, 
and  which  you  tell  me  is  still  in  your  hands." 

Caderousse,  more  and  more  astonished,  went  toward  a 
large  oaken  cupboard,  opened  it,  and  gave  the  abbe  a  long 
purse  of  faded  red  silk,  round  which  were  two  copper  run- 
ners that  had  once  been  gilt.  The  abb6  took  it,  and  in 
return  gave  Caderousse  the  diamond. 

"  Oh  !  you  are  a  man  of  God,  sir,"  cried  Caderousse; 
"  for  no  one  knew  that  Edmond  had  given  you  this  dia- 
mond, and  you  might  have  kept  it." 

"  Which,"  said  the  abbe  to  himself,  "  you  would  have 
done." 

The  abbe  rose,  took  his  hat  and  gloves. 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  ORISTO.  265 

"  Well,"  he  said,  "  all  you  have  told  me  is  perfectly 
true,  then,  and  I  may  believe  it  in  every  particular." 

"  See,  M.  1'Abbfr, "  replied  Caderousse,  "  in  this  corner 
is  a  crucifix  in  holy  wood — here  on  this  shelf  is  the  gospel 
of  niy  wife,  open  this  book,  and  I  will  swear  upon  it  with 
my  hand  on  the  crucifix.  I  will  swear  to  you  by  my  soul's 
salvation,  my  faith  as  a  Christian,  I  have  told  everything 
to  you  as  it  occurred,  and  as  the  angel  of  men  will  tell  it 
to  the  ear  of  God  at  the  day  of  the  last  judgment!" 

"  'Tis  well,"  said  the  abbe,  convinced  by  his  manner 
and  tone  that  Caderousse  spoke  the  truth.  "  'Tis  well, 
and  may  this  money  profit  you!  Adieu!  I  go  far  from  men 
who  thus  so  bitterly  injure  each  other." 

The  abbe  with  difficulty  got  away  from  the  enthusiastic 
thanks  of  Caderousse,  opened  the  door  himself,  got  out 
and  mounted  his  horse,  once  more  saluted  the  inkeeper, 
who  kept  uttering  his  loud  farewells,  and  then  returned 
by  the  road  he  had  traveled  in  coming.  When  Caderousse 
turned  round,  he  saw  behind  him  La  Carconte,  paler  and 
trembling  more  than  ever. 

"  Is,  then,  all  that  I  have  heard  really  true?"  she  in- 
quired. 

"  What!  that  he  has  given  the  diamond  to  us  only?"  in- 
quired Caderousse,  half  bewildered  with  joy. 

"Yes." 

"Nothing  more  true!     See!  here  it  is." 

The  woman  gazed  at  it  a  moment,  and  then  said  in  a 
gloomy  voice:  "  Suppose  it's  false?" 

Caderousse  started  and  turned  pale. 

"False!"  he  muttered,  "False!  why  should  that  man 
give  me  a  false  diamond?" 

"  To  possess  your  secret  without  paying  for  it,  you  block- 
head!" 

Caderousse  remained  for  a  moment  aghast  under  the 
weight  of  such  an  idea." 

"  Oh!"  he  said,  taking  up  his  hat,  which  he  placed  on 
the  red  handkerchief  tied  round  his  head,  "  we  will  soon 
learn  that." 

"In  what  way?" 

"  Why,  it  is  the  fair  of  Beaucaire,  there  are  always 
jewelers  from  Paris  there,  and  I  will  show  it  to  them. 
Take  care  of  the  house,  wife,  and  I  shall  be  back  in  two 
hours." 


266  THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  GRI8TO. 

Caderousse  left  the  house  in  haste,  and  ran  rapidly  in  a 
direction  contrary  to  that  which  the  unknown  had  taken. 

" Fifty  thousand  francs!"  muttered  La  Carconte,  when 
left  alone;  "  it  is  a  large  sum  of  money  but  it  is  not  a 
fortune." 


CHAPTEK  XXVIII. 

THE     PRISON     REGISTER. 

THE  day  after  that  on  which  the  scene  had  passed  on 
the  road  between  Bellegarde  and  Beaucaire  we  have  just 
related,  a  man  about  30  or  32,  dressed  in  a  bright  blue 
frock-coat,  nankeen  trousers,  and  a  white  waistcoat,  having 
the  appearance  an  accent  of  an  Englishman,  presented 
himself  before  the  mayor  of  Marseilles. 

"Sir,"  said  he,  "I  am  chief  clerk  of  the  house  of 
Thomson  &  French,  of  Rome.  We  are,  and  have  been 
these  ten  years,  connected  with  the  house  of  Morrel  &  Son, 
of  Marseilles.  We  have  100,000  francs  (£4,000)  or  there- 
abouts, engaged  in  speculation  with  them,  and  we  are  a 
little  uneasy  at  reports  that  have  reached  us  that  the  firm 
is  on  eve  of  ruin.  I  have  come,  therefore,  express  from 
Rome,  to  ask  you  for  information  as  to  this  house." 

"  Sir,"  replied  the  mayor,  "  I  know  very  well  that  during 
the  last  fonr  or  five  years,  misfortune  seems  to  pursue  M. 
Morrel.  He  has  lost  four  or  five  vessels,  and  suffered  by 
three  or  four  bankruptcies;  but  it  is  not  for  me,  although 
I  am  a  creditor  myself  to  the  amount  of  10,000  francs 
(£400),  to  give  any  information  as  to  the  state  of  his 
finances.  Ask  of  me,  as  mayor,  what  is  my  opinion  of  M. 
Morrel,  I  shall  say  he  is  a  man  honorable  to  the  last  de- 
gree, and  who  has  up  to  this  time  fulfilled  every  engage- 
ment with  scrupulous  punctuality.  This  is  all  I  can  say, 
sir;  if  you  wish  to  learn  more,  address  yourself  to  M.  de 
Boville,  the  inspector  of  prisons,  No.  15,  Rue  de  Nouailles; 
he  has,  I  believe,  200,000  francs  placed  in  the  hands  of 
Morrel,  and  if  there  be  any  grounds  for  apprehension,  as 
this  is  a  greater  amount  than  mine,  you  will  most  probably 
find  him  better  informed  than  myself." 

The  Englishman  seemed  to  appreciate  this  extreme 
delicacy,  made  his  bow,  and  went  away,  walking  with  that 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO.  267 

step  peculiar  to  the  sons  of  Great  Britain,  toward  the  street 
mentioned.  M.  de  Boville  was  in  his  private  room,  and 
the  Englishman,  on  perceiving  him,  made  a  gesture  of  sur- 
prise, which  seemed  to  indicate  that  it  was  not  the  first 
time  he  had  been  in  his  presence.  As  to  M.  de  Boville,  he 
was  in  such  a  state  of  despair,  that  it  was  evident  to  the 
faculties  of  his  mind,  absorbed  in  the  thought  which  oc- 
cupied him  at  the  moment,  did  not  allow  either  his  memory 
or  his  imagination  to  stray  to  the  past.  The  Englishman, 
with  the  coolness  of  his  nation,  addressed  him  in  terms 
nearly  similar  to  those  with  which  he  had  accosted  the 
mayor  of  Marseilles. 

"  Oh,  sir,"  exclaimed  M.  de  Boville,  "your  fears  are  un- 
fortunately but  too  well  founded,  and  you  see  before  you 
a  man  in  despair.  I  had  200,000  francs  placed  in  the 
hands  of  Morrel  &  Son;  these  200,000  francs  were  my 
daughter's  dowry,  who  was  to  be  married  in  a  fortnight, 
and  these  200,000  francs  were  payable,  half  on  the  15th  of 
this  month,  and  the  other  half  on  the  15th  of  next  month. 
I  had  informed  M.  Morrel  of  my  desire  to  have  these  pay- 
ments punctually,  and  he  has  been  here  within  the  last 
half-hour  to  tell  me  that  if  his  ship,  the  Pharaon,  did  not 
come  into  port  on  the  15th,  he  would  be  wholly  unable  to 
make  this  payment." 

"  But/'  said  the  Englishman,  "this  looks  very  much 
like  a  suspension  of  payments !" 

"  Say,  sir,  that  it  resembles  a  bankruptcy  I"  exclaimed 
M.  de  Boville,  despairingly. 

The  Englishman  appeared  to  reflect  a  moment,  and 
then  said:  "  Thus,  then,  sir,  this  credit  inspires  you  with 
considerable  apprehensions?" 

"  To  say  truth,  I  consider  it  lost." 

"  Well,  then,  I  will  buy  it  of  you!" 

"You?" 

"  Yes,  I!" 

"  But  at  a  tremendous  discount,  of  course?" 

"  No,  for  200,000  francs.  Our  house,"  added  the 
Englishman,  with  a  laugh,  "does  not  do  things  in  that 
way." 

"  And  you  will  pay " 

"  Eeady  money.  And  the  Englishman  drew  from  his 
pocket  a  bundle  of  bank-notes,  which  might  have  been 
twice  the  sum  M.  de  Boville  feared  to  lose.  A  ray  of  joy 


268  THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRI8TO. 

passed  across  M.  de  Boville's  countenance,  yet  he  made  an 
effort  over  himself,  and  said:  "Sir,  I  ought  to  tell  you 
that,  in  all  probability  you  will  not  have  6  per  cent  of  this 
sum." 

"  That's  no  affair  of  mine,"  replied  the  Englishman, 
"  that  is  the  affair  of  the  house  of  Thomson  &  French, 
in  whose  name  I  act.  They  have,  perhaps,  some  motive 
to  serve  in  hastening  the  ruin  of  a  rival  firm.  But  all  I 
know,  sir,  is,  that  I  am  ready  to  hand  you  over  this  sum 
in  exchange  for  your  assignment  of  the  debt.  I  only  ask 
a  brokerage.' 

"Of  course,  that  is  perfectly  just,"  cried  M.  de  Boville. 
"  The  commission  is  usually  1£  ;  will  you  have  2 — 3 — 5 
per  cent,  or  even  more?  Say!" 

"  Sir,"  replied  the  Englishman,  laughing,  "  I  am  like 
my  house,  and  do  not  do  such  things — no,  the  commission 
I  ask  is  quite  different." 
Name  it,  sir,  I  beg." 
You  are  the  inspector  of  prisons?" 
I  have  been  so  these  fourteen  years." 
You  keep  the  registers  of  entries  and  departures?" 
I  do." 

To  these  registers  there  are  added  notes  relative  to  the 
oners?" 

There  are  special  reports  on  every  prisoner'" 
Well,  sir,  I  was  educated  at  Rome  by  a  poor  devil  of 
an  abbe,  who  disappeared  suddenly.     I  have  since  learned 
that   he   was  confined  in  the  Chateau  d'  If,  and  I  should 
like  to  learn  some  particulars  of  his  death." 
"What  was  his  name?" 
"The  Abbe  Faria." 

"  Oh,  I  recollect  him  perfectly/'  cried  M.  de  Boville; 
"he  was  crazy." 
"  So  they  said." 
"  Oh,  he  was,  decidedly." 

"  Very  possibly;  but  what  sort  of  madness  was  it?" 
"  He  pretended  to  know  of  an  immense  treasure,  and 
offered  vast  sums  to  government  if   they  would  liberate 
him." 

"  Poor  devil !  and  he  is  dead?" 
"  Yes,  sir;  five  or  six  months  ago,  last  February." 
"  You  have  a  good  memory,  sir,  to  recollect  dates  so 
well!" 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRI8TO.  269 

"  I  recollect  this,  because  the  poor  devil's  death  was  ac- 
companied by  a  singular  circumstance." 

"  May  I  ask  what  that  was?"  said  the  Englishman,  with 
an  expression  of  curiosity  which  a  close  observer  \vould 
have  been  astonished  at  discovering  in  his  phlegmatic 
countenance. 

"  Oh  dear,  yes,  sir;  the  abbe's  dungeon  was  forty  or 
fifty  feet  distant  from  that  of  an  old  agent  of  Bonaparte's 
— one  of  those  who  had  the  most  contributed  to  the  return 
of  the  usurper  in  1815,  a  very  resolute  and  very  dangerous 
man." 

"  Indeed!"  said  the  Englishman. 

"  Yes,"  replied  M.  de  Boville;  "  I,  myself,  had  occa- 
sion to  see  this  man  in  1816  or  1817,  and  we  could  only 
go  into  his  dungeon  with  a  file  of  soldiers.  That  man 
made  a  deep  impression  on  me;  I  shall  never  forget  his 
countenance!" 

The  Englishman  smiled  imperceptibly. 

"  And  you  say,  sir,"  he  said,  "that  the  two  dun- 
geons  " 

"  Were  separated  by  a  distance  of  fifty  feet;  but  it  ap- 
pears that  this  Edmond  Dant£s " 

"  This  dangerous  man's  name  was " 

"  Edmond  Dant£s.  It  appears,  sir,  that  this  Edmond 
Dant^s  had  procured  tools,  or  made  them,  for  they  found 
a  passage  by  which  the  prisoners  communicated." 

"  This  passage  was  formed,  no  doubt,  with  an  intention 
of  escape?" 

"  No  doubt;  but,  unfortunately  for  the  prisoners,  the 
Abbe  Faria  had  an  attack  of  catalepsy,  and  died." 

"  That  must  have  cut  short  the  projects  of  escape." 

"  For  the  dead  man,  yes,"  replied  M.  de  Boville,  "but 
not  for  the  survivor;  on  the  contrary,  this  Dantes  saw  a 
means  of  accelerating  his  escape.  He,  no  doubt,  thought 
that  prisoners  who  died  in  the  Chateau  d'  If  were  interred 
in  the  burial  ground  as  usual,  and  he  conveyed  the  dead 
man  into  his  own  cell,  assumed  his  place  in  the  sack  in 
which  they  had  sewn  up  the  defunct,  and  awaited  the 
moment  of  interment." 

"  It  was  a  bold  step,  and  one  that  indicated  some  cour- 
age," remarked  the  Englishman. 

"  As  I  have  already  told  you,  sir,  he  was  a  very  danger- 
ous man;  and,  fortunately,  by  his  own  act  disembarrased 
the  government  of  the  fears  it  had  on  his  account." 


270  THE  CO  UNT  OF  MONTE  CRI8TO. 

"  How  was  that?" 

"  How?  do  you  not  comprehend ?" 

"  No." 

"  The  Chateau  d'  If  has  no  cemetery,  and  they  simply 
throw  the  dead  into  the  sea,  after  having  fastened  a  thirty- 
six  pound  bullet  to  their  feet." 

"  Well,"  observed  the  Englishman,  as  if  he  were  slow 
of  comprehension. 

"  Well,  they  fastened  a  thirty-six  pound  bullet  to  his 
feet,  and  threw  him  into  the  sea." 

"  Beally,"  exclaimed  the  Englishman. 

"  Yes,  sir,"  continued  the  inspector  of  prisons.  "You 
may  imagine  the  amazement  of  the  fugitive  when  he 
found  himself  flung  headlong  beneath  the  rocks!  I  should 
like  to  have  seen  his  face  at  that  moment." 

"  That  would  have  been  difficult." 

"  No  matter,"  replied  De  Boville,  in  supreme  good 
humor  at  the  certainty  of  recovering  his  200,000  francs — 
"no  matter,  I  can  fancy  it."  And  he  shouted  with  laughter. 

"  So  can  I,"  said  the  Englishman,  and  he  laughed,  too: 
but  he  laughed  as  the  English  do,  at  the  end  of  his  teeth. 
"  And  so,"  continued  the  Englishman,  who  first  gained 
his  composure,  "he  was  drowned?" 

"  Unquestionably." 

"  So  that  the  governor  got  rid  of  the  fierce  and  crazy 
prisoner  at  the  same  time? ' 
'    "  Precisely." 

"  But  some  official  document  was  drawn  up  as  to  this 
affair,  I  suppose?"  inquired  the  Englishman. 

"  Yes,  yes,  the  mortuary  deposition.  You  understand, 
Dantes'  relations,  if  he  had  any,  might  have  some  interest 
in  knowing  if  he  were  dead  or  alive." 

"  So  that  now,  if  there  were  anything  to  inherit  from 
him,  they  may  do  so  with  easy  conscience.  He  is  dead  and 
no  mistake  about  it." 

"  Oh,  yes;  and  they  may  have  the  fact  attested  when- 
ever they  please." 

"  So  be  it,"  said  the  Englishman.  "  But  to  return  to 
these  registers." 

"True,  this  story  has  diverted  our  attention  from  them. 
Excuse  me." 

"  Excuse  you  for  what?  for  the  story?  By  no  means: 
it  really  seems  to  me  very  curious." 


THE  CO  UNT  OF  MONTE  CRI8TO.  «m 

"  Yes,  indeed.  So,  sir,  you  wish  to  see  all  relating  to 
the  poor  abbe,  who  really  was  gentleness  itself. 

"  Yes,  you  will  much  oblige  me." 

"  Go  into  ray  study  here,  and  I  will  show  it  to 
you." 

And  they  both  entered  M.  de  Boville's  study.  All  was 
here  arranged  in  perfect  order ;  each  register  had  its 
number,  each  file  of  paper  its  place.  The  inspector  begged 
the  Englishman  to  seat  himself  in  an  arm-chair,  and 
placed  before  him  the  register  and  documents  relative  to 
the  Chateau  d'lf,  giving  him  all  the  time  he  desired  to  ex- 
amine it  while  De  Boville  seated  himself  in  a  corner,  and 
began  to  read  his  newspaper.  The  Englishman  easily 
found  the  entries  relative  to  the  Abbe  Faria;  but  it  seemed 
that  the  history  which  the  inspector  had  related  interested 
him  greatly,  for  after  having  perused  the  first  documents 
he  turned  over  the  leaves  until  he  reached  the  deposition 
respecting  Edmond  Dantes.  There  he  found  everything 
arranged  in  due  order — the  denunciation,  examination, 
Morrel's  petition,  M.  de  Villefort's  marginal  notes.  He 
folded  up  the  denunciation  quietly,  and  put  it  as  quietly 
in  his  pocket;  read  the  examination,  and  saw  that  the 
name  of  Noirtier  was  not  mentioned  in  it ;  perused  too, 
the  application  dated  10th  April,  1815,  in  which  Morrel, 
by  the  deputy  procureur's  advice,  exaggerated  with  the 
best  intentions  (for  Napoleon  was  then  on  the  throne)  the 
services  Dantes  had  rendered  to  the  imperial  cause — 
services  which  Villefort's  certificates  rendered  indispensa- 
ble. Then  he  saw  through  all.  This  petition  to  Napoleon, 
kept  back  by  Villefort,  had  become,  under  the  second 
restoration,  a  terrible  weapon  against  him  in  the  hands  of 
the  procureur  du  roi.  He  was  no  longer  astonished  when 
he  searched  on  to  find  in  the  register  this  note,  placed  in  a 
bracket  against  his  name: 

"Edmond  Dantes:  An  inveterate  Bonapartist;  took  an 
active  part  in  the  return  from  the  Isle  of  Elba.  To  be 
kept  in  complete  solitary  confinement,  and  to  be  strictly 
watched  and  guarded." 

Beneath  these  lines  was  written  in  another  hand: 
"  See  note  above — nothing  can  be  done." 


272  THE  CO  UNT  OF  MONTE  CRI8TO. 

He  compared  the  writing  in  the  bracket  with  the  writing 
of  the  certificate  placed  beneath  Morrel's  petition,  and  dis- 
covered that  the  note  in  the  bracket  was  the  same  writing 
as  the  certificate — that  is  to  say,  were  in  Villefort's  hand- 
writing. As  to  the  note  which  accompanied  this,  the 
Englishman  understood  that  it  might  have  been  added  by 
eome  inspector,  who  had  taken  a  momentary  interest  in 
Dantes  situation,  but  who  had,  from  the  remarks  we  have 
quoted,  found  it  impossible  to  give  any  effect  to  the  inter- 
est he  experienced. 

As  we  have  said,  the  inspector,  from  discretion,  and  that 
he  might  not  disturb  the  Abbe  Faria's  pupil  in  his 
researches,  had  seated  himself  in  a  comer,  and  was  read- 
ing "  Le  Drapeau  Blanc."  He  did  not  see  the  English- 
man fold  up  and  place  in  his  pocket  the  denunciation 
written  by  Danglars  under  the  arbor  of  La  Reserve,  and 
which  had  the  post-mark  of  Marseilles,  2d  March,  delivery 
6  o'clock  P.  M.  But  it  must  be  said  that  if  he  had  seen  it, 
he  attached  so  small  importance  to  this  scrap  of  paper, 
and  so  great  importance  to  his  200,000  francs,  that  he 
would  not  have  opposed  what  the  Englishman  did,  how 
incorrect  soever  it  might  be. 

"Thanks!"  said  the  latter,  closing  the  register  with  a 
noise,  "  I  have  all  I  want;  now  it  is  for  me  to  perform  my 
promise.  Give  me  a  simple  assignment  of  your  debt; 
acknowledge  therein  the  receipt  of  the  cash,  and  I  will 
hand  yon  over  the  money." 

He  rose,  gave  his  seat  to  M.  de  Boville,  who  took  it 
without  ceremony,  quickly  drew  out  the  required  assign- 
ment, while  the  Englishman  was  counting  out  the  bank- 
notes on  the  other  side  of  the  desk. 


CHAPTER  XXIX. 

THE   HOUSE   OF   MORREL   &   SON. 

one  who  had  quitted  Marseilles  a  few  years  pre- 
viously, well-acquainted  with  the  interior  of  Morrel's 
house,  and  had  returned  at  this  date,  would  have  found  a 
great  change.  Instead  of  that  air  of  life,  of  comfort,  and 
of  happiness  that  exhales  from  a  nourishing  and  prosper- 
ous house — instead  of  the  merry  faces  seen  at  the  windows, 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRI8TO.  273 

of  the  busy  clerks  hurrying  to  and  fro  in  the  long  corri- 
dors— instead  of  the  court  filled  with  bales  of  goods,  re- 
echoing the  cries  and  the  jokes  of  the  porters,  he  would 
have  at  once  perceived  an  air  of  sadness  and  gloom.  In 
the  deserted  corridor  and  the  empty  office,  out  of  all  the 
numerous  clerks  that  used  to  fill  the  office,  but  two  re- 
mained. One  was  a  young  man  of  23  or  24,  who  was  in 
love  with  M.  Morrel  s  daughter,  and  had  remained  with 
him,  in  spite  of  the  efforts  of  his  friends  to  induce 
him  to  withdraw;  the  other  was  an  old  one-eyed  cashier, 
named  Codes,  a  nickname  given  him  by  the  young  men 
who  used  to  inhabit  this  vast  bee-hive,  now  almost  deserted, 
and  which  had  so  completely  replaced  his  real  name,  that 
he  would  not,  in  all  probability,  have  replied  to  any  one 
who  addressed  him  by  it. 

Codes  remained  in  M.  Morrel's  service,  and  a  most  sin- 
gular change  had  taken  place  in  his  situation;  he  had  at 
the  same  time  risen  to  the  rank  of  cashier,  and  sunk  to  the 
rank  of  a  servant.  He  was,  however,  the  same  Codes, 
good,  patient,  devoted,  but  inflexible  on  the  subject  of 
arithmetic,  the  only  point  on  which  he  would  have  stood 
firm  against  the  world,  even  against  M.  Morrel,  and  strong 
in  the  multiplication  table,  which  he  had  at  his  fingers 
ends,  no  matter  what  scheme  or  what  trap  was  laid  to 
catch  him.  In  the  midst  of  the  distress  of  the  house, 
Codes  was  the  only  one  unmoved.  But  this  did  not  arise 
from  a  want  of  affection,  but,  on  the  contrary,  from  a  firm 
conviction.  Like  the  rats  that  leave  by  degrees  the  vessel 
doomed  to  perish  at  sea,  so  that  these  egotistical  guests 
have  completely  abandoned  the  ship  at  the  moment  when 
the  vessel  weighs  anchor,  so  all  these  numerous  clerks  had 
by  degrees  deserted  the  bureau  and  warehouse.  Codes  had 
seen  them  go  without  thinking  of  inquiring  the  cause  of 
their  departure;  everything  was,  as  we  have  said,  a  question 
of  arithmetic  to  Codes,  and  during  twenty  years  he  had 
always  seen  all  payments  made  with  such  exactitude,  that 
it  seemed  as  impossible  to  him  that  the  house  should  stop 
payment,  as  it  would  to  a  miller  that  the  river  that  had 
BO  long  turned  his  mill  should  cease  to  flow. 

Nothing  had  as  yet  occurred,  to  shake  Codes'  belief;  the 
last  month's  payment  had  been  made  with  the  most  scrupu- 
lous exactitude;  Codes  had  detected  an  error  of  14  sous  to 
the  prejudice  of  Morrel  and  the  same  evening  he  had 


274  THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO. 

brought  them  to  M.  Morrel,  who,  with  a  melancholy 
smile,  threw  them  into  an  almost  empty  drawer,  saying: 

" Thanks,  Codes;  you  are  the  pearl  of  cashiers." 

Cooler  retired  perfectly  happy,  for  this  eulogium  of  M. 
Morrel,  himself  the  pearl  of  honest  men  of  Marseilles, 
flattered  him  more  than  a  present  of  £50.  But  since  the 
end  of  the  month  M.  Morrel  had  passed  many  an  anxious 
hour.  In  order  to  meet  the  end  of  the  month,  he  had 
collected  all  his  resources,  and,  fearing  lest  the  report  of 
his  distress  should  get  bruited  abroad  at  Marseilles  when  he 
was  known  to  be  reduced  to  such  an  extremity,  he  went  to 
the  fair  of  Beacaire  to  sell  his  wife's  and  daughter's  jewels 
and  a  portion  of  his  plate.  By  this  means  the  end  of 
the  month  was  passed,  but  his  resources  were  now 
exhausted.  Credit,  owing  to  the  reports  afloat,  was  no 
longer  to  be  had;  and  to  meet  the  £4,000  due  on  the  loth 
of  the  present  month  to  M.  de  Boville,  and  the  £4,000  due 
on  the  15th  of  the  next  month,  M.  Morrel  had,  in  reality, 
no  hope  but  the  return  of  the  Pharaon,  whose  departure 
he  had  learned  from  a  vessel  which  had  weighed  anchor  at 
the  same  time  and  which  had  already  arrived  in  harbor. 
But  this  vessel,  which  like  the  Pharaon,  came  from  Cal- 
cutta, had  arrived  a  fortnight,  while  no  intelligence  had 
been  received  of  the  Pharaon. 

Such  was  the  state  of  things  when,  the  day  after  his 
interview  with  M.  de  Boville,  the  confidential  clerk  of  the 
house  of  Thomson  &  French,  of  Home,  presented  himself  at 
M.  MorreFs.  Emmanuel  received  him.  The  young  man, 
whom  every  fresh  visage  alarmed,  for  each  fresh  visage 
announced  a  fresh  creditor,  who,  in  his  alarm,  came  to 
question  the  head  of  the  house.  The  young  man,  wishing 
to  spare  his  employer  the  pain  of  this  interview,  questioned 
the  new  comer;  but  the  stranger  declared  he  had  nothing 
to  say  to  M.  Emmanuel  and  that  his  business  was  with  M. 
Morrel  in  person.  Emmanuel  sighed  and  summoned 
Codes.  Coclds  appeared  and  the  young  man  bade  him 
conduct  the  stranger  to  M.  MorreFs  apartment.  Codes 
went  first  and  the  stranger  followed  him.  On  the  stair- 
case they  met  a  beautiful  girl  of  16  or  17,  who  looked  with 
anxiety  at  the  the  stranger. 

"M.  Morrel  is  in  his  room,  is  he  not,  Mdlle.  Julie?"  said 
the  cashier. 

"Yes;  I  think  so,  at  least,"  said  the  young  girl,  hesitat- 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRI8TO.  275 

ingly.  "  Go  and  see,  Codes,  and  if  my  father  is  there, 
announce  this  gentleman." 

"  It  will  be  useless  to  announce  me,  mademoiselle,"  re- 
turned the  Englishman.  "M.  Morrell  does  not  know  my 
name;  this  worthy  gentleman  has  only  to  announce  the 
confidential  clerk  of  the  house  of  Thomson  &  French,  ol 
Rome,  with  whom  your  father  does  business." 

The  young  girl  turned  pale  and  continued  to  descend, 
while  the  stranger  and  Codes  continued  to  mount  the  stair- 
case. She  entered  the  office  where  Emmanuel  was,  while 
Codes,  by  the  aid  of  a  key  he  possessed,  opened  a  door  in 
the  corner  of  a  landing-place  on  the  second  staircase,  con- 
ducted the  stranger  into  an  ante-chamber,  opened  a  second 
door,  which  he  closed  behind  him,  and,  after  having  left 
the  clerk  of  the  house  of  Thomson  &  French  alone,  returned 
and  signed  to  him  that  he  could  enter.  The  Englishman 
entered  and  found  Morrel  seated  at  a  table,  turning  over 
the  formidable  columns  of  his  ledger,  which  contained  the 
list  of  his  liabilities.  At  the  sight  of  the  stranger,  M. 
Morrel  closed  the  ledger,  rose  and  offered  a  seat  to  the 
stranger;  and,  when  he  had  seen  him  seated,  resumed  his 
own  chair.  Fourteen  years  had  changed  the  worthy  mer- 
chant, who,  in  his  36th  year  at  the  openiug  of  this  history, 
was  now  in  his  50th  ;  his  hair  had  turned  white;  time 
and  sorrow  had  plowed  deep  furrows  on  his  brow,  and 
his  look,  once  so  firm  and  penetrating  was  now  irresolute 
and  wandering,  as  if  he  feared  being  forced  to  fix  his 
attention  on  an  idea  or  a  man.  The  Englishman  looked 
at  him  with  an  air  of  curiosity,  evidently  mingled  with 
interest. 

"  Monsieur/'  said  Morrel,  whose  uneasiness  was  in- 
creased by  this  examination,  "you  wish  to  speak  to  me." 

"Yes,  monsieur;  you  are  aware  from  whom  I  come?" 

"  The  house  of  Thomson  &  French;  at  least,  so  my  cashier 
tells  me." 

"  He  has  told  you  rightly.  The  house  of  Thomson  & 
French  had  300,000  or  400,000  francs  (£12,000  to  £16,000) 
to  pay  this  month  in  France;  and,  knowing  your  strict 
punctuality,  have  collected  all  the  bills  bearing  your  sig- 
nature and  charged  me  as  they  became  due  to  present  them 
and  to  employ  the -money  otherwise." 

Morrel  sighed  deeply  and  passed  his  hand  over  his  fore- 
head, which  was  covered  with  perspiration. 


276  THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CR1STO. 

"So,  then,  sir,"  said  Morrel,  "you  hold  bills  of  mine?" 

"Yes;  and  for  a  considerable  sum." 

"What  is  the  amount?"  asked  Morrel,  with  a  voice  he 
strove  to  render  firm. 

"  Here  is,"  said  the  Englishman,  taking  a  quantity  of 
papers  from  his  pocket,  "  an  assignment  of  200,000  francs 
to  our  house  by  M.  de  Boville,  the  inspector  of  prisons,  to 
whom  they  are  due.  You  acknowledge,  of  course  you 
owe  this  sum  to  him?" 

"Yes;  he  placed  the  money  in  my  hands  at  4£  per  cent, 
nearly  five  years  ago." 

"When  are  you  to  pay?" 

"Half  the  15th  of  this  month,  half  the  15th  of 
next." 

"Just  so;  and  now  here  are  32,500  francs,  payable 
shortly.  They  are  all  signed  by  you  and  assigned  to  our 
house  by  the  holders." 

"I  recognize  them,"  said  Morrel,  whose  face  was  suf- 
fused as  he  thought  that,  for  the  first  time  in  his  life,  he 
would  be  unable  to  honor  his  own  signature.  "  Is  this 
all?" 

"  No;  I  have  for  the  end  of  the  month  these  bills,  which 
have  been  assigned  to  us  by  the  house  of  Pascal  and  the 
house  of  Wild  &  Turner,  of  Marseilles,  amounting  to 
nearly  55,000  francs  (£2,200);  in  all  287,500  francs 
(£11,500)." 

It  is  impossible  to  describe  what  Morrel  suffered  during 
this  enumeration. 

"  Two  hundred  and  eighty-seven  thousand  five  hundred 
francs,"  repeated  he. 

"Yes,  sir,"  replied  the  Englishman.  "  I  will  not," 
continued  he,  after  a  moment's  silence,  "conceal  from  you 
that  while  your  probity  and  exactitude  up  to  this  moment 
are  universally  acknowledged,  yet  the  report  is  current 
in  Marseilles  that  you  are  not  able  to  meet  your  engage- 
ments." 

At  this  almost  brutal  speech  Morrel  turned  deathly  pale. 

"  Sir,"  said  he,  "up  to  this  time — and  it  is  now  more 
than  four-and-twenty  years  since  I  received  the  direction 
from  my  father,  who  had  himself  conducted  it  for  five- 
and-thirty  years — never  has  anything  bearing  the  signature 
of  Morrel  &  Son  been  dishonored." 

"  1  know  that,"  replied  the  Englishman.     "  But,  as  a 


THK  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRI8TO.  277 

man  of  honor  should  answer  another,  tell  me  fairly,  shall 
you  pay  these  with  the  same  punctuality?" 

Morrel  shuddered  and  looked  at  the  man,  who  spoke 
with  more  assurance  than  he  had  hitherto  shown. 

"  To  questions  frankly  put,"  said  he,  "  a  straightforward 
answer  should  be  given.  Yes,  I  shall  pay  if,  as  I  hope, 
my  vessel  arrives  safely;  for  its  arrival  will  again  procure 
me  the  credit  which  the  numerous  accidents,  of  which  I 
have  been  the  victim,  have  deprived  me;  but  if  the  Pharaon 
should  be  lost  and  this  last  resource  be  gone " 

The  poor  man's  eyes  filled  with  tears. 

"Well/'  said  the  other,  "if  this  last  resource  fail  you?" 

"Well,"  returned  Morrel,  "it  is  a  cruel  thing  to  be 
forced  to  say,  but,  already  used  to  misfortune,  1  must 
habituate  myself  to  shame.  I  fear  I  shall  be  forced  to 
suspend  my  payments." 

"  Have  you  no  friends  who  could  assist  you?" 

Morrel  smiled  mournfully. 

"  In  business,  sir,"  said  he,  "  one  has  no  friends,  only 
correspondents." 

"  It  is  true,"  murmured  the  Englishman.  "  Then  you 
have  but  one  hope." 

"But  one." 
The  last?" 
The  last." 

So  that  if  this  fail " 

'  I  am  ruined — completely  ruined!" 
'  As  I  came  here  a  vessel  was  entering  the  port." 
'  I  know  it,  sir.     A  young  man  who  still  adheres  to  my 
fallen  fortunes  passes  a  part  of  his  time  in  a  belvidere  at 
the  top  of  the  house  in  hopes  of  being  the  first  to  announce 
good  news  to  me.     He  has  informed  me  of  the  entrance  of 
this  ship." 

"  And  it  is  not  yours?" 

"  No,  it  is  a  vessel  of  Bordeaux,  La  Gironde;  it  comes 
from  India  also,  but  it  is  not  mine." 

"  Perhaps  it  has  spoken  the  Pharaon  and  brings  you 
some  tidings  of  it?" 

"  Shall  I  tell  you  plainly  one  thing,  sir?  I  dread  almost 
as  much  to  receive  any  tidings  of  my  vessel  as  to  remain 
in  doubt.  Incertitude  is  still  hope." 

Then  in  a  low  voice  Morrel  added: 

"  This  delay  is  not  natural.     The  Pharaon  left  Calcutta 


278  THE  CO  UNT  OF  MONTE  GRISTO. 

the  5th  of  February;  it  ought  to  have  been  here  a  month 
ago." 

"  What  is  that?"  said  the  Englishman.  "  What  is  the 
meaning  of  this  noise?" 

"  Oh,  oh!"  cried  Morrel,  turning  pale,  "what  is  this?" 

A  loud  noise  was  heard  on  the  stairs  of  people  moving 
hastily  and  half-stifled  sobs.  Morrel  rose  and  advanced  to 
the  door,  but  his  strength  failed  him  and  he  sank  into  a 
chair.  The  two  men  remained  opposite  one  another. 
Morrel  trembling  in  every  limb,  the  stranger  gazing  at 
him  with  air  of  profound  pity.  The  noise  had  ceased,  but 
it  seemed  that  Morrel  expected  something — something  had 
occasioned  the  noise  and  something  must  follow.  The 
stranger  fancied  he  heard  footsteps  on  the  stairs,  and  that 
the  steps,  which  were  those  of  several  persons,  stopped  at 
the  door.  A  key  was  inserted  in  the  lock  of  the  first  door 
and  the  creaking  of  hinges  was  audible. 

"  There  are  only  two  persons  who  have  the  key  of  the 
door,"  murmured  Morrel,  "  Codes  and  Julie." 

At  this  instant  the  second  door  opened  and  the  young 
girl,  her  eyes  bathed  with  tears,  appeared.  Morrel  rose 
tremblingly,  supporting  himself  by  the  arm  of  the  chair. 
He  would  have  spoken,  but  his  voice  failed  him. 

"Oh,  father!"  said  she,  clasping  her  hands,  "forgive 
your  child  for  being  the  messenger  of  ill." 

Morrel  again  changed  color.  Julie  threw  herself  into 
his  arms. 

"  Oh,  father,  father?"  murmured  she,  "courage!" 

"  The  Pharaon  has  then  been  lost?"  said  Morrel,  in  a 
hoarse  voice. 

The  young  girl  did  not  speak,  but  she  made  an  affirma- 
tive sign  with  her  head  as  she  lay  on  her  father's  breast. 

"And  the  crew?"  asked  Morrel. 

"  Saved,"  said  the  girl,  "  saved  by  the  crew  of  the 
vessel  that  has  just  entered  the  harbor." 

Morrel  raised  his  two  hands  to  heaven  with  an  expres- 
sion of  resignation  and  sublime  gratitude. 

"  Thanks,  my  God,"  said  he,  "  at  least  Thou  strikest 
but  me  alone." 

Spite  of  his  phlegm  a  tear  moistened  the  eye  of  the 
Englishman. 

"  Come  in,  come  in,"  said  Morrel,  "for  I  presume  you 
are  all  at  the  door." 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRI8TO.  279 

Scarcely  had  he  uttered  these  words  than  Mme.  Moirel 
entered  weeping  bitterly,  Emmanuel  followed  her,  and  in 
the  ante-chamber  were  visible  the  rough  faces  of  seven  or 
eight  half-naked  sailors.  At  the  sight  of  these  men  the 
Englishman  started  and  advanced  a  step;  then  restrained 
himself  and  retired  into  the  farthest  and  most  obscure 
corner  of  the  apartment.  Mme.  Morrel  sat  down  by  her 
husband  and  took  one  of  his  hands  in  hers,  Julie  still  lay 
wi£h  her  head  on  his  shoulder,  Emmanuel  stood  in  the 
center  of  the  chamber  and  seemed  to  form  the  link  between 
Mori-el's  family  and  the  sailors  at  the  door. 

"  How  did  this  happen?"  said  Morrel. 

"Draw  nearer,  Penelon,"  said  the  young  man,  "and 
relate  all." 

An  old  seaman,  bronzed  by  the  tropical  sun,  advanced, 
twirling  the  remains  of  a  hat  between  his  hands. 

"Good  day,  M.  Morrel, "  said  he,  as  if  he  had  just 
quitted  Marseilles  the  previous  evening  and  had  just  re- 
turned from  Aix  or  Toulon. 

"  Good  day,  Penelon,"  returned  Morrel,  who  could  not 
refrain  from  smiling  through  his  tears,  "  where  is  the 
captain?" 

"  The  captain,  M.  Morrel,  he  has  stayed  behind  sick  at 
Palma;  but,  please  God,  it  won't  be  much,  and  you  will 
see  him  in  a  few  days  all  alive  and  hearty." 

"Well,  now  tell  your  story,  Penelon.'* 

Penelon  rolled  his  quid  in  his  cheek,  placed  his  hand 
before  his  mouth,  turned  his  head  and  sent  a  long  jet  of 
tobacco-juice  into  the  ante-chamber,  advanced  his  foot  and 


You  see,  M.  Morrel,"  said  he,  "  we  were  somewhere 
between  Cape  Blanc  and  Cape  Bogador  sailing  with  a  fair 
breeze  south-southwest  after  a  week's  calm  when  Capt. 
Gaumard  comes  up  to  me — I  was  at  the  helm  I  should  tell 
you — and  says:  '  Penelon,  what  do  you  think  of  those 
clouds  that  are  arising  there?'  I  was  just  then  looking  at 
them  myself.  '  What  do  I  think,  captain?  Why,  I  think 
that  they  are  rising  faster  than  they  have  any  business, 
and  that  they  would  not  be  so  black  if  they  did  not  mean 
mischief.'  '  That's  my  opinion,  too,'  said  the  captain, 
'and  I'll  take  precautions  accordingly.  We  are  carrying 
too  much  canvas.  Halloo!  all  hands  to  slacken  sail  and 
lower  the  flying  jib.'  It  was  time;  the  squall  was  on  us 


280  THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO. 

and  the  vessel  began  to  heel.  '  Ah/  said  the  captain, 
'we  have  still  too  much  canvas  set;  all  hands  to  lower  the 
main-sail!'  Five  minutes  after  it  was  down,  and  we  sailed 
under  mizen-topsails  and  top-gallant  sails.  '  Well,  Pene- 
lou,'  said  the  captain,  *  what  makes  you  shake  your  head?' 
'  Why,'  I  says,  '  I  don't  think  that  we  shall  stop  here.' 
'  I  think  you  are  right/  answered  he,  '  we  shall  have  a 
gale.'  'A  gale!  more  than  that,  we  shall  have  a  tempest, 
or  I  know  nothing  about  it.'  You  could  see  the  wind 
coming  like  the  dust  at  Montredon.  Luckily,  the  captain 
understood  his  business.  '  All  hands  take  in  two  reefs  in 
the  topsails/  cried  the  captain;  '  let  go  the  bowlines,  brace 
to,  lower  the  topgallant  sails,  haul  out  the  reef-tackles  on 
the  yards/  " 

"  That  was  not  enough  for  those  latitudes,"  said  the 
Englishman.  "I  should  have  taken  four  reefs  in  the  top- 
sails and  lowered  the  mizen." 

His  firm,  sonorous  and  unexpected  voice  made  every 
one  start.  Penelon  put  his  hand  over  his  eyes  and  then 
stared  at  the  man  who  thus  criticized  the  maneuvers  of  his 
captain. 

"  We  did  better  than  than,  sir,"  said  the  old  sailor,  with 
a  certain  respect,  "  we  put  the  helm  to  the  wind  to  run 
before  the  tempest.  Ten  minutes  after  we  struck  our  top- 
sail and  scudded  under  bare  poles." 

"The  vessel  was  very  old  to  risk  that/'  said  the  En- 
glishman. 

"  Eh,  it  was  that  that  wrecked  us.  After  having  been 
tossed  about  for  twelve  hours  we  sprung  a  leak.  '  Pene- 
lon,' said  the  captain,  '  I  think  we  are  sinking,  give  me 
the  helm  and  go  down  into  the  hold.'  I  gave  him  the 
helm  and  descended.  There  was  already  three  feet  of 
water.  I  cried,  'All  hands  to  the  pumps!'  but  it  was  too 
late,  and  it  seemed  the  more  we  pumped  the  more  came 
in.  'Ah/ said  I,  after  four  hours'  work,  'since  we  are 
sinking  let  us  sink;  we  can  die  but  once.'  'That's  the 
example  you  set,  Penelon/  cries  the  captain;  '  very  well, 
wait  a  minute.'  He  went  into  his  cabin  and  came  back 
with  a  brace  of  pistols.  '  I  will  blow  the  brains  out  of  the 
first  man  who  leaves  the  pump/  said  he." 

"  Well  done!"  said  the  Englishman. 

"  There's  nothing  gives  you  so  much  courage  as  good 
reasons,"  continued  the  sailor;  "and  during  that  time  the 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRI8TO.  281 

wind  had  abated  and  the  sea  gone  down,  but  the  water 
kept  rising;  not  much,  only  two  inches  an  hour,  but  still 
it  rose.  Two  inches  an  hour  does  not  seem  much,  but  In 
twelve  hours  that  makes  two  feet,  and  three  we  had  before, 
that  makes  five.  '  Come/  said  the  captain,  '  we  have  done 
all  in  our  power  and  M.  Morrel  will  have  nothing  to  re- 
proach us  with;  we  have  tried  to  save  the  ship,  let  us  now 
save  ourselves.  To  the  boats,  my  lads,  as  quick  as  you 
can.'  Now,"  continued  Penelon,  "  you  see,  M.  Morrel,  a 
sailor  is  attached  to  his  ship,  but  still  more  to  his  life;  so 
we  did  not  wait  to  be  told  twice;  the  moie  so,  that  the  ship 
was  sinking  under  us  and  seemed  to  say,  get  along,  save 
yourselves.  We  soon  launched  the  boat  and  all  eight  of  us 
got  into  it.  The  captain  descended  the  last,  or  rather,  he 
did  not  descend,  he  would  not  quit  the  vessel;  so  I  took 
him  round  the  waist  and  threw  him  into  the  boat,  and  then 
I  jumped  after  him.  It  was  time,  for  just  as  I  jumped  the 
deck  burst  with  a  noise  like  the  broadside  of  a  man-of-war. 
Ten  minutes  after  she  pitched  for  ward,  then  the  other  way, 
spun  round  and  round,  and  then  good-by  to  the  Pharaon. 
As  for  us,  we  were  three  days  without  anything  to  eat  or 
drink,  so  that  we  began  to  think  of  drawing  lots  who 
should  feed  the  rest,  when  we  saw  La  Gironde;  we  made 
signals  of  distress,  she  perceived  us,  made  for  us,  and  took 
us  all  on  board.  There  now,  M.  Morrel,  that's  the  whole 
truth,  on  the  honor  of  a  sailor;  is  not  it  true,  you  fellows 
there?" 

A  general  murmur  of  approbation  showed  that  the  nar- 
rator had  faithfully  detailed  their  misfortunes  and  suf- 
ferings. 

"  Well,  well,"  said  M.  Morrel,  "  I  know  there  was  no 
one  in  fault  but  destiny.  It  was  the  will  of  God  that  this 
should  happen,  blessed  be  His  name.  What  wages  are  due 
to  you?" 

"  Oh,  don't  let  us  talk  of  that,  M.  Morrel." 

"  On  the  contrary,  let  us  speak  of  it." 

"  Well,  then,  three  months,"  said  Penelon. 

"  Codes!  pay  200  francs  to  each  of  these  good  fellows," 
said  Morrel.  "  At  another  time,"  added  he,  "  I  should 
have  said,  give  them,  besides,  200  francs  over  as  a  present; 
but  times  are  changed,  and  the  little  money  that  remains 
to  me  is  not  my  own." 

Penelon  turned  to  his  companions  and  exchanged  a  few 
words  with  them. 


282  THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRI8TO. 

"As  for  that,  M.  Morrel,"  said  he,  again  turning  his 
quid.  "  As  for  that " 

"  As  for  what?" 

"  The  money." 

«  Well " 

"  Well,  we  all  say  that  50  francs  will  be  enough  for  us  at 
present  and  that  we  will  wait  for  the  rest." 

"  Thanks,  my  friends,  thanks!"  cried  Morrel,  gratefully, 
"  take  it — take  it;  and  if  you  can  find  another  employer, 
enter  his  service:  you  are  free  to  do  so." 

These  last  words  produced  a  prodigious  effect  on  the  sea- 
men; Penelon  nearly  swallowed  his  quid;  fortunately  he 
recovered. 

"What!  M.  Morrel,"  said  he,  in  a  low  voice,  "  you  send 
us  away;  you  are  then  angry  with  us!" 

"No,  no,"  said  M.  Morrel,  "I  am  not  angry;  on  the 
contrary,  I  do  not  send  you  away;  but  I  have  no  more 
ships,  and,  therefore,  I  do  not  want  any  sailors." 

"  No  more  ships!"  returned  Penelon;  "  well,  then, 
you'll  build  some;  we'll  wait  for  you." 

"  I  have  no  money  to  build  ships  with,  Penelon,"  said 
the  poor  owner,  mournfully,  "  so  I  cannot  accept  your 
kind  offer." 

"No  more  money!  then  you  must  not  pay  us;  we  can 
go,  like  the  Pharaon,  under  bare  poles." 

"Enough!  enough !"  cried  Morrel,  almost  overpowered; 
"leave  me,  I  pray  you;  we  shall  meet  again  in  a  happier 
time.  Emmanuel,  accompany  them  and  see  that  my  orders 
are  executed." 

"At  least,  we  shall  see  each  other  again,  M.  Morrel?" 
asked  Penelon. 

"  Yes;  I  hope  so,  at  least.  Now  go."  He  made  a  sign 
to  Codes,  who  marched  first;  the  seamen  followed  him, 
and  Emmanuel  brought  up  the  rear.  "  Now,"  said  the 
owner,  to  his  wife  and  daughter,  "leave  me;  I  wish  to 
speak  with  this  gentleman."  And  he  glanced  toward  the 
clerk  of  Thomson  &  French,  who  had  remained  motion- 
less in  the  corner  during  this  scene,  in  which  he  had  taken 
no  part,  except  the  few  words  we  have  mentioned.  The 
two  females  looked  at  this  person,  whose  presence  they 
had  entirely  forgotten,  and  retired;  but,  as  she  left  the 
apartment,  Julie  gave  the  stranger  a  supplicating  glance, 
to  which  he  replied  by  a  smile  that  an  indifferent  spectator 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRI8TO.  283 

would  have  been  surprised  to  see  on  his  stern  features. 
The  two  men  were  left  alone.  "  "Well,  sir,"  said  Morrel, 
sinking  into  a  chair,  "  you  have  heard  all,  and  I  have  noth- 
ing further  to  tell  you. 

"I  see,"  returned  the  Englishman,  "that  a  fresh  and 
unmerited  misfortune  has  overwhelmed  you,  and  this  only 
increases  my  desire  to  serve  you." 

"Oh,  sir!"  cried  Morrel. 

"  Let  me  see,"  continued  the  stranger,  "  I  am  one  of 
your  largest  creditors." 

"  Your  bills,  at  least,  are  the  first  that  will  fall  due." 

"  Do  you  wish  for  time  to  pay?" 

"  A  delay  would  save  my  honor  and  consequently  my 
life." 

"  How  long  a  delay  do  you  wish  for?" 

Morrel  reflected. 

"  Two  months,"  said  he. 

"  I  will  give  you  three,"  replied  the  stranger. 

"  But,"  asked  Morrel,  "  will  the  house  of  Thomson  & 
French  consent?" 

"  Oh,  I  take  everything  on  myself.  To-day  is  the  5th 
of  June." 

"Yes." 

"  Well,  renew  these  bills  up  to  the  5th  of  September; 
and  on  the  5th  of  September,  at  11  o'clock  (the  hand  of 
the  clock  pointed  to  11),  I  shall  come  to  receive  the 
money." 

"  I  shall  expect  you,"  returned  Morrel;  "  and  I  will  pay 
you — or  I  shall  be  dead." 

These  last  words  were  uttered  in  so  low  a  tone  that  the 
stranger  could  not  hear  them.  The  bills  were  renewed,  the 
old  ones  destroyed,  and  the  poor  ship-owner  found  himself 
with  three  months  before  him  to  collect  his  resources. 
The  Englishman  received  his  thanks  with  the  phlegm  pe- 
culiar to  his  nation;  and  Morrel  overwhelming  him  with 
grateful  blessings,  conducted  him  to  the  staircase.  The 
stranger  met  Julie  on  the  stairs;  she  affected  to  be  de- 
scending, but  in  reality  she  was  waiting  for  him. 

"  Oh,  sir,"  said  she,  clasping  her  hands. 

"  Mademoiselle,"  said  the  stranger,  "  one  day  you  will 
receive  a  letter  signed  *  Sinbad  the  Sailor/  Do  exactly 
what  the  letter  bids  you,  however,  strange  it  may  appear. 

"  Yes,  sir,"  returned  Julie. 


284  THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CBISTO. 

"  Do  you  promise?" 

"  I  swear  to  you  I  will." 

"It  is  well.  Adieu,  mademoiselle!  Remain  as  pure 
and  virtuous  as  you  are  at  present,  and  I  have  great  hopes 
that  heaven  will  reward  you  by  giving  you  Emmanuel  for 
a  husband." 

Julie  uttered  a  faint  cry,  blushed  like  a  rose,  aud  leaned 
against  the  baluster.  The  stranger  waved  his  hand  and 
continued  to  descend.  In  the  court  he  found  Penelon, 
who,  with  a  rouleau  of  100  francs  in  either  hand,  seemed 
unable  to  make  up  his  mind  to  retain  them. 

"  Come  with  me,  my  friend,"  said  the  Englishman;  "  I 
wish  to  speak  to  you." 


CHAPTER  XXX. 

THE   FIFTH   OF   SEPTEMBER. 

THE  delay  afforded  by  the  agent  of  the  house  of  Thom- 
son &  French,  at  the  moment  when  Morrel  expected 
it  least,  appeared  to  the  poor  ship-owner  one  of  those  re- 
turns of  good  fortune  which  announce  to  a  man  that  Fate 
is  at  length  weary  of  wasting  her  spite  upon  him.  The 
same  day  he  related  to  his  wife,  to  Emmanuel  and  his 
daughter,  what  had  occurred  to  him;  and  a  ray  of  hope,  if 
not  tranquility,  returned  to  the  family.  Unfortunately, 
however,  Morrel  had  not  only  engagements  with  the  house 
of  Thomson  &  French,  who  had  shown  themselves  so  con- 
siderate toward  him;  and,  as  he  had  said,  in  business  he 
had  correspondents  and  not  friends.  When  he  reflected 
deeply,  he  could  by  no  means  account  for  this  generous 
conduct  on  the  part  of  Thomson  &  French  toward  him, 
and  could  only  attribute  it  to  the  selfish  reflection  of  the 
firm: 

"  We  had  better  support  a  man  who  owes  us  nearly 
300,000  francs,  and  have  those  300,000  francs  at  the  end 
of  three  months,  than  hasten  his  ruin,  and  have  6  or  8  per 
cent  of  capital." 

Unfortunately,  whether  from  hate  or  blindness,  all  Mor- 
rel's  correspondents  did  not  reflect  similarly  ;  and  some 
made  even  a  contrary  reflection.  The  bills  signed  by 
Morrel  were  thus  presented  at  his  office  with  scrupulous 


TEE  COUNT  OF  MONTB  CRISTO.  285 

exactitude,  and,  thanks  to  the  delay  granted  by  the  En- 
glishman, were  paid  by  Codes  with  equal  punctuality. 
Codes  thus  remained  in  his  accustomed  tranquility.  It 
was  Morrel  alone  who  remembered  with  alarm,  that  if  he 
had  to  repay  on  the  15th  the  50,000  francs  of  M.  de  Boville, 
and  on  the  30th  the  32,500  francs  of  bills,  for  which,  as 
well  as  the  debt  due  to  the  inspector  of  prisons,  he  had 
time  granted,  he  must  be  a  ruined  man. 

The  opinion  of  all  the  commercial  men  was  that,  under 
the  reverses  which  had  successively  weighed  down  Morrel, 
it  was  impossible  for  him  to  stand  against  it.  Great,  there- 
fore, was  the  astonishment  when  they  saw  the  end  of  the 
month  come,  and  he  fulfilled  all  his  engagements  with  his 
usual  punctuality.  Still,  confidence  was  not  restored  to  all 
minds,  and  the  general  voice  postponed  only  until  the  end  of 
the  month  the  complete  ruin  of  the  unfortunate  ship- 
owner. The  month  passed  among  unheard  of  efforts  on 
the  part  of  Morrel  to  get  in  all  his  resources.  Formerly 
his  paper,  at  any  date,  was  taken  with  confidence,  and  was 
even  in  request.  Morrel  now  tried  to  negotiate  bills  at 
ninety  days  only,  and  found  all  the  banks  closed.  For- 
tunately, Morrel  had  some  moneys  coming  in  on  which  he 
could  rely;  and,  as  they  reached  him,  he  found  himself  in 
a  condition  to  meet  his  engagements  when  the  end  of  July 
came.  The  agent  of  Thomson  &  French  had  not  been 
again  seen  at  Marseilles;  the  day  after,  or  two  days  after 
his  visit  to  Morrel,  he  had  disappeared;  and  as  in  that  city 
he  had  had  no  intercourse  but  with  the  mayor,  the  inspec- 
tor of  prisons,  and  M.  Morrel,  his  appearance  left  no  other 
trace  than  the  different  remembrances  of  him  which  these 
three  persons  retained.  As  to  the  sailors  of  the  Pharaon, 
it  seemed  that  they  must  have  found  some  engagement,  for 
they  had  disappeared  also. 

Capt.  Gaumard,  recovered  from  his  illness,  had  returned 
from  Palma.  He  hesitated  to  present  himself  at  MorreFs, 
but  the  owner,  hearing  of  his  arrival,  went  to  him.  The 
worthy  ship-owner  knew,  from  Penelon's  recital,  of  the 
captain's  brave  conduct  during  the  storm  and  tried  to  con- 
sole him.  He  brought  him  also  the  amount  of  his  wages, 
which  Capt.  Gaumard  had  not  dared  to  apply  for.  As  he 
descended  the  staircase,  Morrel  met  Penelon,  who  was 
going  up.  Penelon  had,  it  would  seem,  made  good  use  of 
his  money,  for  he  was  newly  clad;  when  he  saw  his  em- 

DUMAS— VOL.  I.— 13 


286  THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO. 

ployer  the  worthy  tar  seemed  much  embarrassed,  drew  on 
one  side  into  the  corner  of  the  landing-place,  passed  his 
quit  from  one  cheek  to  the  other,  stared  stupidly  with  his 
great  eyes,  and  only  acknowledged  the  squeeze  of  the  hand 
which  Morrel  as  usual  gave  him  by  a  slight  pressure  in 
return.  Morrel  attributed  Peuelon's  embarrassment  to  the 
elegance  of  his  attire;  it  was  evident  the  good  fellow  had 
not  gone  to  such  an  expense  on  his  own  account;  he  was, 
no  doubt,  engaged  on  board  some  other  vessels,  and  thus 
his  bashfulness  arose  from  the  fact  of  his  not  having,  if 
we  may  so  express  ourselves,  worn  mourning  for  the 
Pharaon  longer.  Perhaps  he  had  come  to  tell  Capt.  Gau- 
mard  of  his  good  luck,  and  to  offer  him  employment  from 
his  new  master. 

"Worthy  fellow!"  said  Morrel,  as  he  went  away,  " may 
your  new  master  love  you  as  I  loved  you,  and  be  more 
fortunate  than  I  have  been!" 

August  rolled  by  in  unceasing  efforts  on  the  part  of 
Morrel  to  renew  his  credit  or  revive  the  old.  On  the  20th 
of  August  it  was  known  at  Marseilles  that  he  had  taken  a 
place  in  the  malle-poste,  and  then  it  was  said  that  it  was 
at  the  end  of  the  month  the  docket  was  to  be  struck,  and 
Morrel  had  gone  away  before,  that  he  might  not  be  present 
at  this  cruel  act;  but  had  left  his  chief  clerk  Emmanuel,  and 
his  cashier  Codes  to  meet  it.  But,  contrary  to  all  expection, 
when  the  31st  of  August  came,  the  house  opened  as  usual, 
and  Codes  appeared  behind  the  grating  of  the  counter,  exam- 
ined all  bills  presented  with  the  same  scrutiny,  and,  from 
first  to  last  paid  all  with  the  same  precision.  There  came 
in,  moreover,  two  repayments  which  M.  Morrel  had  antici- 
pated and  which  Cooler  paid  as  punctually  as  those  bills 
which  the  ship-owner  had  accepted.  All  this  was  incom- 
prehensible, and  then,  with  the  tenacity  peculiar  to 
prophets  of  bad  news,  the  failure  was  put  off  until  the  end 
of  September.  On  the  1st,  Morrel  returned;  he  was 
awaited  by  his  family  with  extreme  anxiety,  for  from  this 
journey  to  Paris  they  hoped  a  last  means  of  safety  would 
arrive.  Morrel  had  thought  of  Danglars,  who  was  now 
immensely  rich,  and  had  lain  under  great  obligations  to 
Morrel  in  former  days,  since  to  him  it  was  owing  that 
Danglars  entered  the  service  of  the  Spanish  banker,  with 
whom  had  commenced  his  vast  wealth.  It  was  said  at 
this  moment  that  Danglars  was  worth  from  £200,000  to 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO.  287 

£300,000,  and  had  unlimited  credit.  Danglars  then,  with- 
out taking  a  crown  from  his  pocket,  could  save  Morrel;  he 
had  but  to  pass  his  word  for  a  loan  and  Morrel  was  saved. 
Morrel  had  long  thought  of  Danglars,  but  there  are  those 
instinctive  revoltings  impossible  to  control,  and  Morrel  had 
delayed  as  long  as  possible  before  he  had  recourse  to  this  last 
resource.  And  Morrel  was  right,  for  he  returned  home 
borne  down  by  all  the  humiliation  of  a  refusal.  Yet,  on  his 
arrival,  Morrel  did  not  utter  a  complaint,  nor  say  one 
harsh  word;  he  embraced  his  weeping  wife  and  daughter, 
pressed  Emmanuars  hand  with  friendly  warmth,  and  then 
going  to  his  private  room  on  the  second  floor,  had  sent 
for  Codes. 

"  Then/'  said  the  two  females  to  Emmanuel,  "  we  are, 
indeed,  ruined." 

It  was  agreed  in  a  brief  council  held  among  them,  that 
Julie  should  write  to  her  brother,  who  was  in  garrison  at 
Nismes,  to  come  to  them  as  speedily  as  possible.  The  poor 
woman  felt  instinctively  that  they  required  all  their 
strength  to  support  the  blow  that  impended.  Besides 
Maxamilian  Morrel,  though  hardly  22,  had  great  influence 
over  his  father.  He  was  a  strong-minded,  upright  young 
man.  At  the  time  when  he  decided  on  his  profession  his 
father  had  no  desire  to  choose  for  him,  but  had  consulted 
young  Maximilian's  taste.  He  had  at  once  declared  for  a 
military  life,  and  had,  in  consequence,  studied  hard, 
passed  brilliantly  through  the  Ecole  Polytechnique,  and 
left  it  as  sub-lieutenant  of  the  53d  of  the  line.  For  a  year 
he  had  held  this  rank,  and  expected  promotion  on  the  first 
vacancy.  In  his  regiment  Maximilian  Morrel  was  noted  as 
the  most  rigid  observer,  not  only  of  the  obligations  imposed 
on  a  soldier,  but  also  of  the  duties  of  a  man,  and  he  thus 
gained  the  name  of  "  the  stoic."  We  need  hardly  say  that 
many  of  those  who  gave  him  this  epithet  repeated  it 
because  they  had  heard  it,  and  did  not  even  know  what  it 
meant. 

This  was  the  young  man  whom  his  mother  and  sister 
called  to  their  aid  to  sustain  them  under  the  grave  circum- 
stances which  they  felt  they  would  soon  have  to  endure. 
They  had  not  mistaken  the  gravity  of  this  event,  for,  the 
moment  after  Morrel  had  entered  his  cabinet  with  Codes, 
Julie  saw  the  latter  leave  it  pale,  trembling  and  his  feat- 
ures betraying  the  utmost  consternation.  She  would 


288  THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRI8TO. 

have  questioned  him  as  he  passed  by  her,  but  the  worthy 
creature  hastened  down  the  staircase  with  unusual  precipi- 
tation, and  only  raised  his  hands  to  heaven  and  exclaimed: 
"  0  mademoiselle!  mademoiselle!  what  a  dreadful  misfor- 
tune! Who  could  ever  have  believed  it!"  A  moment 
afterward  Julie  saw  him  go  upstairs  carrying  two  or  three 
heavy  ledgers,  a  pocket-book  and  a  bag  of  money. 

Morrel  examined  the  ledgers,  opened  the  pocket-book 
and  counted  the  money.  All  his  funds  amounted  to  6,000 
or  8,000  francs,  his  expectancies  up  to  the  5th  to  4,000  or 
5,000,  which,  making  the  best  of  everything,  gave  him 
14,000  francs  to  meet  bills  amounting  to  287,500  francs. 
He  could  not  make  such  a  proposal.  However,  when 
Morrel  went  down  to  his  dinner,  he  appeared  very  com- 
posed. This  calmness  was  more  alarming  to  the  two 
women  than  the  deepest  dejection  would  have  been.  After 
dinner  Morrel  usually  went  out,  and  used  to  take  his  coffee 
at  the  club  of  the  Phoceens,  and  read  the  Semaphore,  but 
this  day  he  did  not  leave  the  house,  but  returned  to  his 
office. 

As  to  Codes,  he  seemed  completely  bewildered.  For 
part  of  the  day  he  went  into  the  court-yard,  seated  himself 
on  a  stone  with  his  head  bare  and  exposed  to  a  sun  of 
thirty  degrees.  Emmanuel  tried  to  comfort  the  females, 
but  his  eloquence  faltered.  The  young  man  was  too  well 
acquainted  with  the  business  of  the  house  not  to  feel  that 
a  great  catastrophe  hung  over  the  Morrel  family.  Night 
came.  The  two  women  had  watched,  hoping  that  when  he 
left  his  room  Morrel  would  come  to  them,  but  they  heard 
him  pass  before  their  door  and  trying  to  conceal  the  noise 
of  his  footsteps.  They  listened;  he  went  into  his  sleeping- 
room  and  fastened  the  door  inside.  Mme.  Morrel  sent  her 
daughter  to  bed,  and,  half  an  hour  after  Julie  had  retired, 
she  rose,  took  off  her  shoes  and  went  stealthily  along  the 
passage  to  see  through  the  keyhole  what  her  husband  was 
doing.  In  the  passage  she  saw  a  retreating  shadow;  it  was 
Julie,  who,  uneasy  herself,  had  anticipated  her  mother. 
The  young  lady  went  toward  Mme.  Morrel.  "  He  is 
writing,"  she  said.  They  had  understood  each  other  with- 
out speaking.  Mme.  Morrel  looKed  again  through  the 
keyhole;  Morrel  was  writing,  but  Mme.  Morrel  remarked, 
what  her  daughter  had  not  observed,  that  her  husband 
was  writing  on  stamped  paper.  The  terrible  idea  that  he 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRI8TO.  289 

was  writing  his  will  flashed  across  her;  she  shuddered,  and 
yet  had  not  strength  to  utter  a  word.  Next  day  M.  Morrel 
seemed  as  calm  as  ever,  went  into  his  office  as  usual,  came 
to  his  breakfast  punctually,  and  then,  after  dinner,  he 
placed  his  daughter  beside  him,  took  her  head  in  his  arms, 
and  held  her  for  a  long  time  against  his  bosom.  In  the 
evening  Julie  told  her  mother  that,  although  so  calm  in 
appearance,  she  had  remarked  that  her  father's  heart  beat 
violently.  The  two  next  days  passed  almost  similarly.  On 
the  evening  of  the  4th  of  September  M.  Morrel  asked  his 
daughter  for  the  key  of  his  cabinet.  Julie  trembled  at 
this  request,  which  seemed  to  her  of  bad  omen.  Why  did 
her  father  ask  for  this  key,  which  she  always  kept,  and 
which  was  only  taken  from  her  in  childhood  as  a  punish- 
ment? The  young  girl  looked  at  Morrel. 

"  What  have  I  done  wrong,  father,"  she  said,  "  that  you 
should  take  this  key  from  me?" 

"  Nothing,  my  dear,"  replied  the  unhappy  man,  the 
tears  starting  to  his  eyes  at  this  simple  question — "  noth- 
ing, only  I  want  it." 

Julie  made  a  pretence  to  feel  for  the  key.  "  I  must 
have  left  it  in  my  room,"  she  said.  And  she  went  out,  but 
instead  of  going  to  her  apartment  she  hastened  to  consult 
Emmanuel. 

"  Do  not  give  this  key  to  your  father,"  said  he,  "  and 
to-morrow  morning,  if  possible,  do  not  quit  him  for  a 
moment." 

She  questioned  Emmanuel,  but  he  knew  nothing,  or 
would  not  say  it  if  he  did. 

During  the  night,  between  the  4th  and  5th  of  Septem- 
ber, Mme.  Morrel  remained  listening  for  every  sound,  and, 
until  3  o'clock  in  the  morning,  she  heard  her  husband 
pacing  the  room  in  great  agitation.  It  was  3  o'clock  when 
he  threw  himself  on  the  bed.  The  mother  and  daughter 
passed  the  night  together.  They  had  expected  Maximilian 
since  the  previous  evening  At  8  o'clock  in  the  morning 
Morrel  entered  their  chamber.  He  was  calm,  but  the  agi- 
tation of  the  night  was  legible  in  his  pale  and  careworn 
visage.  They  did  not  dare  to  ask  him  how  he  had  slept. 
Morrel  was  kinder  to  his  wife,  more  affectionate  to  his 
daughter,  than  he  had  ever  been.  He  could  not  cease 
gazing  at  and  kissing  the  sweet  girl.  Julie,  mindful  of 
Emmanuel's  request,  was  following  her  father  when  he 


290  THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO. 

quitted  the  room,  but  he  said  to  her,  quickly:  "  Remain 
with  your  mother,  dearest."  Julie  wished  to  accompany 
him.  "  I  wish  you  to  do  so,"  he  said 

This  was  the  first  time  Morrel  had  ever  so  spoken,  but 
he  said  it  in  a  tone  of  paternal  kindness,  and  Julie  did  not 
dare  refuse  compliance.  She  remained  at  the  same  spot, 
standing  mute  and  motionless.  An  instant  afterward  the 
door  opened,  she  felt  two  arms  encircle  her,  and  a  mouth 
pressed  her  forehead.  She  looked  up  and  uttered  an  ex- 
clamation of  joy. 

"  Maximilian!  my  dearest  brother!"  she  cried. 

At  these  words  Mme.  Morrel  rose  and  threw  herself  into 
her  son's  arms. 

"  Mother,"  said  the  young  man,  looking  alternately  at 
Mme.  Morrel  and  her  daughter,  "  what  has  occurred — 
what  has  happened?  Your  letter  has  frightened  me,  and  I 
have  come  hither  with  all  speed." 

"  Julie,"  said  Mme.  Morrel,  making  a  sign  to  the  young 
man,  "  go  and  tell  your  father  that  Maximilian  has  just 
arrived." 

The  young  lady  rushed  out  of  the  apartment,  but  on  the 
first  step  of  the  staircase  she  found  a  man  holding  a  letter 
in  his  hand. 

"  Are  you  not  Mdlle.  Julie  Morrel?"  inquired  the  man, 
with  a  strong  Italian  accent. 

"  Yes,  sir,"  replied  Julie,  with  hesitation;  "  what  is 
your  pleasure?  I  do  not  know  you." 

"  Read  this  letter,"  he  said,  handing  it  to  her.  Julie 
hesitated.  "  It  concerns  the  best  interests  of  your  father," 
said  the  messenger. 

The  young  girl  hastily  took  the  letter  from  him.  She 
opened  it  quickly  and  read: 

"  Go  this  moment  to  the  Alices  de  Meillan,  enter  the 
house  No.  15,  ask  the  porter  for  the  key  of  the  room  on 
the' fifth  floor,  enter  the  apartment,  take  from  the  corner 
of  the  mantlepiece  a  purse  netted  in  red  silk  and  give  it  to 
your  father.  It  is  important  that  he  should  receive  it  be- 
fore 11  o'clock.  You  promised  to  obey  me  implicitly. 
Remember  your  oath. 

"  '  SlNBAD  THE  SAILOB.'  " 

The  young  girl  uttered  a  joyful  cry,  raised  her  eyes, 


THE  CO  UNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO  291 

looked  round  to  question  the  messenger,  but  he  had  disap- 
peared. She  cast  her  eyes  again  over  the  note  to  peruse 
it  a  second  time,  and  saw  there  was  a  postscript.  She 
read: 

"  It  is  important  that  you  should  fulfill  this  mission  in 
person  and  alone.  If  you  go  accompanied  by  any  other 
person,  or  should  any  one  else  present  themselves,  the 
porter  will  reply  that  he  does  not  know  anything  about  it/' 

This  postscript  was  a  great  check  to  the  young  girl's 
ioy.  Was  there  nothing  to  fear  ?  was  there  not  some  snare 
laid  for  her  ?  Her  innocence  had  kept  her  in  ignorance 
of  the  dangers  that  might  assail  a  young  girl  of  her  age. 
But  there  is  no  need  to  know  danger  in  order  to  fear  it; 
indeed,  it  may  be  observed,  that  it  is  usually  unknown 
perils  that  inspire  the  greatest  terror. 

Julie  hesitated,  and  resolved  to  take  counsel.  Yet,  by  a 
singular  feeling,  it  was  neither  to  her  mother  nor  her 
brother  that  she  applied,  but  to  Emmanuel.  She  hastened 
down  and  told  him  what  had  occurred  on  the  day  when  the 
agent  of  the  house  of  Thomson  &  French  had  come  to 
her  father's,  related  the  scene  on  the  staircase,  repeated  the 
promise  she  had  made  and  showed  him  the  letter. 

"  You  must  go,  then,  mademoiselle,"  said  Emmanuel. 

"  Go  there  !"  murmured  Julie. 

"  Yes;  I  will  accompany  you." 

"  But  did  you  not  read  that  I  must  be  alone  ?"  said 
Julie. 

"  And  you  shall  be  alone,"  replied  the  young  man.  "I 
will  await  you  at  the  corner  of  the  Hue  du  Musee,  and  if 
you  are  so  long  absent  as  to  make  me  uneasy,  I  will  hasten 
to  rejoin  you,  and  woe  to  him  of  whom  you  shall  have 
cause  to  complain  to  me." 

"  Then,  Emmanuel,"  said  the  young  girl,  with  hesita- 
tion, "  it  is  your  opinion  that  I  should  obey  this  invita- 
tion ?" 

"  Yes.  Did  not  the  messenger  say  your  father's  safety 
was  in  it  ?" 

"  But  what  danger  threatens  him,  then,  Emmanuel  ?" 
she  asked. 

Emmanuel  hesitated  a  moment,  but  his  desire  to  make 
Julie  decide  immediately  made  him  reply  : 


292  THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRIBTO. 

"  Listen,"  he  said;  "  to-day  is  the  5th  of  September,  is 
it  not  ?" 

"Yes." 

"To-day,  then,  at  11  o'clock,  you  father  has  nearly 
300,000  francs  to  pay." 

"  Yes,  we  know  that." 

"Well,  then,"  continued  Emmanuel,  "we  have  not 
15,000  francs  in  the  house." 

"  What  will  happen  then  ?" 

"  Why,  if  to-day  before  11  o'clock  your  father  has  not 
found  some  one  who  will  come  to  his  aid  he  will  be  com- 
pelled at  12  o'clock  to  declare  himself  a  bankrupt." 

"Oh,  come,  then,  come  !"  cried  she,  hastening  away  with 
the  young  man.  During  this  time,  Mme.  Morrel  had  told 
her  son  everything.  The  young  man  knew  quite  well  that 
after  the  succession  of  misfortunes  which  had  befallen  his 
father,  great  changes  had  taken  place  in  the  style  of  living 
and  housekeeping;  but  he  did  not  know  that  matters  had 
reached  such  a  point.  He  was  thunderstruck.  Then, 
rushing  hastily  out  of  the  apartment,  he  ran  upstairs,  ex- 
pecting to  find  his  father  in  his  cabinet,  but  he  rapped 
there  in  vain.  While  he  was  yet  at  the  door  of  the  cabinet 
he  heard  the  bedroom-door  open,  turned  and  saw  his  father. 
Instead  of  going  direct  to  his  cabinet  M.  Morrel  had  re- 
turned to  his  bed-chamber,  which  he  was  only  this  moment 
quitting.  Morrel  uttered  a  cry  of  surprise  at  the  sight  of 
his  son,  of  whose  arrival  he  was  ignorant.  He  remained 
motionless  on  the  spot,  pressing  with  his  left  hand  some- 
thing he  had  concealed  under  his  coat.  Maximillian 
sprang  down  the  staircase,  and  threw  his  arms  round  his 
father's  neck;  but  suddenly  he  recoiled,  and  placed  his 
right  hand  on  Morrel's  breast. 

"  Father  !"  he  exclaimed,  turning  pale  as  death,  "what 
are  you  going  to  do  with  that  brace  of  pistols  under  your 
coat  ?" 

"  Oh,  this  is  what  I  feared  !"  said  Morrel. 

"Father,  father!  in.  heaven's  name,"  exclaimed  the 
young  man,  "  what  are  these  weapons  for  ?" 

"  Maximilian,"  replied  Morrel,  looking  fixedly  at  his  son, 
"  you  are  a  man,  and  a  man  of  honor.  Come,  and  I  will 
explain  to  you." 

And  with  a  firm  step  Morrel  went  up  to  his  cabinet, 
while  Maximilian  followed  him,  trembling  as  he  went. 


THE  CO  UNT  OF  MONTE  CR18TO.  293 

Morrel  opened  the  door  and  closed  it  behind  his  son;  then 
crossing  the  ante-rooom,  went  to  his  desk,  on  which  he 
placed  the  pistols  and  pointed  with  his  finger  to  an  open 
ledger.  In  this  ledger  was  made  out  an  exact  balance- 
sheet  of  affairs.  Morrel  had  to  pay,  within  half  an  hour, 
287,500  francs.  All  he  possessed  was  15,257  francs. 

"  Read  !"  said  Morrel. 

The  young  man  was  overwhelmed  as  he  read.  Morrel 
said  not  a  word.  What  could  he  say  ?  What  need  he  add 
to  such  a  desperate  proof  in  figures  ? 

"And  have  you  done  all  that  is  possible,  father,  to  meet 
this  disastrous  result  ?"  asked  the  young  man,  after  a 
moment's  pause. 

"  I  have,"  replied  Morrel. 

"  You  have  no  money  coming  in  on  which  you  can 
rely  ?" 

«  None." 

"  You  have  exhausted  every  resource  ?" 

"All." 

"  And  in  half  an  hour,"  said  Maximilian,  in  a  gloomy 
voice,  "  our  name  is  dishonored  !" 

"  Blood  washes  out  dishonor,"  said  Morrel. 

"  You  are  right,  father;  I  understand  you."  Then  ex- 
tending his  hand  toward  one  of  the  pistols,  he  said: 
"  There  is  one  for  you  and  one  for  me — thanks  !" 

Morrel  checked  his  hand. 

"  Your  mother  ! — your  sister  !  Who  will  support  them  ?" 

A  shudder  ran  through  the  young  man's  frame. 

"Father,"  he  said,  "  do  you  reflect  that  you  are  bidding 
me  live  ?" 

"Yes,  I  do  bid  you,"  answered  Morrel;  "  it  is  your  duty. 
You  have  a  calm,  strong  mind,  Maximilian.  Maximilian, 
you  are  no  ordinary  man.  I  desire  nothing — I  command 
nothing;  I  only  say  to  you,  examine  my  position  as  if  it 
were  your  own,  and  then  judge  for  yourself." 

The  young  man  reflected  an  instant,  then  an  expression 
of  sublime  resignation  appeared  in  his  eyes,  and  with  a 
slow  and  sad  gesture  he  took  off  his  two  epaulettes,  the 
marks  of  his  rank. 

'  Be  it  so,  then,  my  father,"  he  said,  extending  his 
hand  to  Morrel,  "  die  in  peace,  my  father;  I  will  live." 

Morrel  was  about  to  cast  himself  on  his  knees  before  his 
son,  but  Maximilian  caught  him  in  his  arms,  and  those  two 


294  THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  VRISTO. 

noble  hearts  were  pressed  against  each  other  for  a  mo- 
ment. 

"  You  know  it  is  not  my  fault,"  said  Morrel. 

Maximilian  smiled. 

"I  know,  father,  you  are  the  most  honorable  man  I 
have  ever  known." 

"  Good,  my  son.  And  now  all  is  said;  go  now  and  rejoin 
your  mother  and  sister." 

"  My  father,"  said  the  young  man,  bending  his  knee, 
"bless  me!" 

Morrel  took  his  head  between  his  two  hands,  drew  him 
toward  him  and  kissing  his  forehead  several  fcimes,  said: 
"  Oh,  yes,  yes,  I  bless  you  in  my  own  name,  and  in  the 
name  of  three  generations  of  irreproachable  men,  who  say 
by  my  voice,  'The  edifice  which  misfortune  his  destroyed, 
Providence  may  build  up  again/  On  seeing  me  die  such 
a  death,  the  most  inexorable  will  have  pity  on  you.  To 
you,  perhaps,  they  will  accord  the  time  they  have  refused 
to  me.  Try  that  the  word  of  disgrace  be  never  pro- 
nounced; go  to  work,  labor,  young  man,  struggle  ardently 
and  courageously;  live,  yourself,  your  mother  and  sister, 
with  the  most  rigid  economy,  so  that  from  day  to  day  the 
property  of  those  whom  I  leave  in  your  hands  may  aug- 
ment and  fructify.  Reflect  how  glorious  a  day  it  will  be, 
how  grand,  how  solemn,  that  day  of  complete  restoration, 
on  which  you  will  say  in  this  very  office.  '  My  father  died 
because  he  could  not  do  what  I  have  this  day  done;  but  he 
died  calmly  and  peaceably,  because  in  dying  he  knew  what 
I  should  do/  " 

"  My  father  !  my  father!"  cried  the  young  man,  "  why 
should  you  not  live  ?" 

"  If  I  live,  all  would  be  changed;  if  I  live,  interest  would 
be  converted  into  doubt,  pity  into  hostility;  if  I  live,  I  am 
only  a  man  who  has  broken  his  word,  failed  in  his  engage- 
ments— in  fact,  only  a  bankrupt.  If,  on  the  contrary,  I 
die,  remember,  Maximilian,  my  corpse  is  that  of  an  honest 
but  unfortunate  man.  Living,  my  best  friends  would 
avoid  my  house;  dead,  all  Marseilles  will  follow  me  in  tears 
to  my  last  home.  Living,  you  would  feel  shame  at  my 
name;  dead,  you  may  raise  your  head  and  say,  '  I  am  the 
son  of  him  you  killed,  because,  for  the  first  time,  he  has 
been  compelled  to  fail  in  his  word/  " 

The  young  man  uttered  a  groan,  but  appeared  resigned. 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRI8TO.  295 

"And  now,"  said  Morrel,  "leave  me  alone,  and  en- 
deavor to  keep  your  mother  and  sister  away." 

"  Will  you  not  see  my  sister  once  more?"  asked  Maxi- 
milian. A  last  but  final  hope  was  concealed  by  the  young 
man  in  the  effect  of  this  interview,  and  therefore,  he  had 
suggested  it.  Morrel  shook  his  head. 

'  I  saw  her  this  morning,  and  bade  her  adieu." 
1  Have  you  no  particular  commands  to  leave  with  me, 
my  father  ?"  inquired  Maximilian,  in  a  faltering  voice. 
'  Yes,  my  son,  and  a  sacred  command." 
'  Say  it,  my  father." 

'  The  house  of  Thomson  &  French  is  the  only  one 
who,  from  humanity,  or,  it  may  be,  selfishness — it  is  not 
for  me  to  read  men's  hearts — have  had  any  pity  for  me. 
His  agent,  who  will  in  ten  minutes  present  himself  to  re- 
ceive the  amount  of  a  bill  of  287,500  francs,  I  will  not  say 
granted,  but  offered  me  three  months.  Let  this  house  be 
the  first  repaid,  my  son,  and  respect  this  man." 

"  Father,  I  will,"  said  Maximilian. 

"  And  now,  once  more,  adieu,"  said  Morrel.  "Go,  leave 
me;  I  would  be  alone.  You  will  find  my  will  in  the  secre- 
taire in  my  bedroom." 

The  young  man  remained  standing  and  motionless,  hav- 
ing but  the  force  of  will  and  not  the  power  of  execution. 

"  Hear  me,  Maximilian,"  said  his  father.  "  Suppose  I 
was  a  soldier  like  you,  and  ordered  to  carry  a  certain  re- 
doubt, and  you  knew  I  must  be  killed  in  the  assault,  would 
you  not  say  to  me,  as  you  said  just  now,  '  Go,  father;  for 
you  are  dishonored  by  delay,  and  death  is  preferable  to 
shame  !'  " 

"  Yes,  yes!"  said  the  young  man,  "yes;"  and  once 
again  embracing  his  father  with  convulsive  pressure,  he 
said,  "Be  it  so,  my  father." 

And  he  rushed  out  of  the  cabinet.  When  his  son  had 
left  him,  Morrel  remained  an  instant  standing  with  his 
eyes  fixed  on  the  door;  then  putting  forth  hi»  arm,  he 
pulled  the  bell.  After  a  moment's  interval,  Codes  ap- 
peared. 

He  was  no  longer  the  same  man — the  fearful  convictions 
of  the  three  last  days  had  crushed  him.  This  thought — 
the  house  of  Morrel  is  about  to  stop  payment — bent  him 
to  the  earth  more  than  twenty  years  would  likewise  have 
done. 


396  THE  CO  UNT  OF  MONTE  CRI8TO. 

"  My  worthy  Codes/'  said  Morrel,  in  a  tone  impossible 
to  describe,  "  do  you  remain  in  the  ante-chamber.  When 
the  gentleman  who  came  three  months  ago — the  agent  of 
the  house  of  Thomson  &  French — arrives,  announce  his 
arrival  to  me."  Codes  made  no  reply;  he  made  a  sign 
with  his  head,  went  into  the  ante-room,  and  seated  him- 
self. Morrel  fell  back  in  his  chair,  his  eyes  fixed  on  the 
clock;  there  were  seven  minutes  left,  that  was  all.  The 
hand  moved  on  with  incredible  rapidity;  it  seemed  to  him 
as  if  he  saw  it  progress. 

What  then  passed,  at  this  final  moment  of  time,  in  the 
mind  of  this  man,  who,  still  young,  by  a  course  of  reason- 
ing, false  perhaps,  but  at  least  specious,  was  about  to 
separate  himself  from  all  he  loved  in  the  world,  and  quit 
life,  which  possessed  for  him  all  domestic  delights,  it  is 
impossible  to  express.  To  form  the  slightest  idea  of  his  feel- 
ings, he  must  have  been  seen  with  his  brow  bathed  in 
perspiration,  yet  resigned;  his  eyes  moistened  with  tears, 
and  yet  raised  to  heaven.  The  clock  hand  moved  on;  the 
pistols  were  cocked;  he  stretched  forth  his  hand,  took  one 
up,  and  murmured  his  daughter's  name.  Then  he  laid 
down  the  mortal  weapon,  took  up  his  pen,  and  wrote  a 
few  words.  It  seemed  to  him  as  if  he  had  not  taken  a 
sufficient  farewell  of  his  beloved  daughter.  Then  he 
turned  again  to  the  clock;  he  no  longer  counted  by  min- 
utes, but  by  seconds.  He  took  up  the  deadly  weapon 
again,  his  mouth  half-opened  and  his  eyes  fixed  on  the 
clock,  and  then  shuddered  at  the  click  of  the  trigger  as  he 
conked  the  pistol.  At  this  moment  of  mortal  agony,  a 
damp  colder  than  death  passed  over  his  brow,  an  agony 
stronger  than  death  clutched  at  his  heart-strings.  He 
heard  the  door  of  the  staircase  creak  on  its  hings — the 
clock  gave  its  warning  to  strike  eleven — the  door  of  his 
cabinet  opened;  Morrel  did  not  turn  round — he  expected 
these  words  of  Codes,  "The  agent  of  Thomson  & 
French." 

He  placed  the  muzzle  of  the  pistol  between  his  teeth. 
Suddenly  he  heard  a  cry — it  was  his  daughter's  voice.  He 
tnrned  and  saw  Julie.  The  pistol  fell  from  his  hands. 
"  My  father  !"  cried  the  young  girl,  out  of  breath,  and 
half  dead  with  joy — "saved  !  you  are  saved  !"  And  she 
threw  herself  into  his  arms,  holding  in  her  extended  hand 
a  red  netted  silk  purse. 


I  HE  CO  UNI  OF  MONTE  GRI8TO.  297 

"Saved  !  my  child  !"  said  Morrel;  "what  do  you  mean?" 
"  Yes,  saved — saved  !  see,  see  !"  said  the  young  girl. 
Morrel  took  the  purse,  and  started  as  he  did  so,  for  a 
vague  remembrance  reminded  him  that  it  once  belonged  to 
himself.     At  one  end  was  the  bill  for  the  287,500  francs 
receipted,  and  at  the  other  was  a  diamond  as  large  as  a 
hazel-nut,  with  these  words  on  a  small  slip  of  parchment: 

"JULIE'S  DOWKY.  " 

Morrel  passed  his  hand  over  his  brow;  it  seemed  to  him 
a  dream.  At  this  moment  the  clock  struck  eleven.  The 
sound  vibrated  as  if  each  stroke  of  the  hammer  struck  on 
MorrePs  heart.  "  Explain,  my  child,"  he  said,  explain — 
where  did  you  find  this  purse  ?" 

"  In  a  house  in  the  Alices  de  Meillan,  (No.  15,  on  the 
corner  of  a  mantel-piece  in  a  small  room  on  the  fifth 
floor." 

"But,"  cried  Morrel,  "this  purse  is  not  yours  !"  Julie 
handed  to  her  father  the  letter  she  had  received  in  the 
morning. 

"  And  did  you  go  alone  ?"  asked  Morrel,  after  he  had 
read  it. 

"  Emmanuel  accompanied  me,  father.  He  was  to  have 
waited  for  me  at  the  corner  of  the  Hue  de  Musee,  but, 
strange  to  say,  he  was  not  there  when  I  returned." 

"  M.  Morrel !"  exclaimed  a  voice  on  the  stairs,  "  M. 
Morrel  !" 

"  It  is  his  voice!"  said  Julie.  At  this  moment  Emmanuel 
entered,  his  countenance  full  of  animation  and  joy.  "  The 
Pharaon!"  he  cried;  "the  Pharaon!" 

"What!  what!  the  Pharaon!  Are  you  mad,  EmmanuelP 
You  know  the  vessel  is  lost." 

"  The  Pharaon,  sir — they  signal  the  Pharaon  !  The 
Pharaon  is  entering  the  harbor!"  Morrel  fell  back  in  his 
chair,  his  strength  was  failing  him  ;  his  understanding, 
weakened  by  such  events,  refused  to  comprehend  such  in- 
credible, unheard-of,  fabulous  facts.  But  his  son  came  in. 
"  Father!"  cried  Maximilian,  "  how  could  you  say  the 
Pharaon  was  lost?  The  watch-tower  has  signalled  her  and 
they  say  she  is  HOW  coming  into  port." 

"My  dear  friends!"  said  Morrel,  "if  this  were  so,  it 
must  be  a  miracle  of  heaven!  Impossible!  impossible!" 


298  THE  CO  UNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO. 

But  what  was  real  and  not  less  incredible  was  the  purse 
he  held  in  his  hand,  the  acceptance  receipted — the  splendid 
diamond. 

"  Ah!  sir/'  exclaimed  Codes,  "what  can  it  mean  ?  the 
Pharaon?" 

"  Come,  my  dear,"  said  Morrel,  rising  from  his  seat, 
"  let  us  go  and  see  and  heaven  have^pity  upon  us  if  it  be'ialse 
intelligence!"  They  all  went  out,  and  on  the  stairs'  met 
Mme.  Morrel,  who  had  been  afraid  to  go  up  into  the  cabi- 
net. In  an  instant  they  were  at  the  Cannebiere.  There 
was  a  crowd  on  the  pier.  All  the  crowd  gave  way  before 
Morrel.  "  The  Pharaon!  the  Pharaon!"  said  every  voice. 

And,  wonderful  to  say,  in  front  of  the  tower  of  Saint- 
Jean,  was  a  ship  bearing  on  her  stern  these  words,  printed 
in  white  letters,  "  The  Pharaon,  Morrel  &  Sons,  of  Mar- 
seilles." It  was  precisely  resembling  the  other  Pharaon 
and  loaded,  as  that  had  been,  with  cochineal  and  indigo. 
It  cast  anchor,  brailed  all  sails  and  on  the  deck  was  Capt. 
Gaumard  giving  orders  and  Maitre  Penelon  making  signals 
to  M.  Morrel.  To  doubt  any  longer  was  impossible;  there 
was  the  evidence  of  the  sense  and  10,000  persons  who 
came  to  corroborate  the  testimony.  As  Morrel  and  his  son 
embraced  on  the  pier-head,  in  the  presence  and  applause  of 
the  whole  city  witnessing  this  prodigy,  a  man  with  his  face 
half-covered  by  a  black  beard,  and  who,  concealed  behind 
the  sentry-box,  watched  the  scene  with  delight,  uttered 
these  words  in  a  low  tone  :  "  Be  happy,  noble  heart, 
be  blessed  for  all  the  good  thou  hast  done  and  wilt  do 
hereafter  and  let  my  gratitude  rest  in  the  shade  with  your 
kindness." 

And  with  a  smile,  in  which  joy  and  happiness  were  re- 
vealed, he  left  his  hiding-place,  and,  without  being 
observed,  descended  one  of  those  nights  of  steps  which 
serve  for  debarkation,  and,  hailing  three  times,  shouted 
"Jacopo!  Jacopo!  Jacopo!"  Then  a  shallop  came  to 
shore,  took  him  on  board  and  conveyed  him  to  a  yacht 
splendidly  fitted  up,  on  whose  deck  he  sprang  with  the 
activity  of  a  sailor;  thence  he  once  again  looked  toward 
Morrel,  who,  weeping  with  joy,  was  shaking  hands  most 
cordially  with  all  the  crowd  around  him  and  thanking  with 
a  look  the  unknown  benefactor  whom  he  seemed  to  be 
seeking  in  the  skies.  "And  now,"  said  the  unknown, 
"farewell  kindness,  humanity  and  gratitude!  Farewell  to 


THE  CO  UNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO.  299 

all  the  feelings  that  expand  the  heart !  I  have  been 
heaven's  substitute  to  recompense  the  good — now  the  god 
of  vengeance  yields  to  me  his  power  to  punish  the 
wicked!"  At  these  words  he  gave  a  signal,  and,  as  if 
only  awaiting  this  signal,  the  yacht  instantly  put  out 
to  sea. 


CHAPTEE  XXXI. 
ITALY:    "  SINE  AD  THE  SAILOR/' 

TOWAED  the  commencement  of  the  year  1838  two  young 
men  belonging  to  the  first  society  of  Paris,  the  Viscount 
Albert  de  Morcerf  and  the  Baron  Franz  d'Epinay,  were  at 
Florence.  They  had  agreed  to  see  the  carnival  at  Eome 
that  year,  and  that  Franz,  who  for  the  last  three  or  four 
years  had  inhabited  Italy,  should  act  as  cicerone  to  Albert. 
As  it  is  no  inconsiderable  affair  to  spend  the  carnival  at 
Eome,  especially  when  you  have  no  great  desire  to  sleep  on 
the  Place  du  Peuple,  or  the  Campo  Vaccino,  they  wrote  to 
Maitre  Pastrini,  the  proprietor  of  the  H6tel  de  Londres, 
Place  d'Espagne,  to  reserve  comfortable  apartments  for 
them.  Maitre  Pastrini  replied  that  he  had  only  two  rooms 
and  a  cabinet  al  secondo  piano,  which  he  offered  at  the 
low  charge  of  a  louis  per  diem.  They  accepted  his  offer; 
but,  wishing  to  make  the  best  use  of  the  time  that  was 
left,  Albert  started  for  Naples.  As  for  Franz,  he  remained 
at  Florence.  After  having  passed  several  days  here,  when 
he  had  walked  in  the  Eden  called  the  Casines,  when  he  had 
passed  two  or  three  evenings  at  the  houses  of  the  nobles  of 
Florence,  he  took  a  fancy  into  his  head,  after  having 
already  visited  Corsica,  the  cradle  of  Bonaparte,  to  visit 
Elba,  the  halting-place  of  Napoleon. 

One  evening  he  loosened  a  bark  from  the  iron  ring  that 
secured  it  to  the  port  of  Leghorn,  laid  himself  down, 
wrapped  in  his  cloak,  at  the  bottom  and  said  to  the  crew: 
"  To  the  Isle  of  Elba!"  The  bark  shot  out  of  the  harbor 
like  a  bird  and  the  next  morning  Franz  disembarked  at 
Porto  Ferrajo.  He  traversed  the  island,  after  having  fol- 
lowed the  traces  which  the  footsteps  of  the  giant  have  left, 
and  re-embarked  for  Marciana.  Two  hours  after  he  again 
landed  at  Pianosa,  where  he  was  assured  red  partridges 


300  THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRI8TO. 

abounded.  The  sport  was  bad;  Franz  only  succeeded  in 
killing  a  few  partridges,  and,  like  every  unsuccessful 
sportsman,  he  returned  to  the  boat  very  much  out  of 
temper.  "  Ah,  if  your  excellency  chose,"  said  the  captain, 
"you  might  have  capital  sport." 

"  Where?" 

"  Do  you  see  that  island  ?"  continued  the  captain, 
pointing  to  a  conical  pile  that  "rose  from  out  the  azure 
main." 

"  Well !  what  is  this  island  ?" 

"  The  Island  of  Monte  Cristo." 

"  But  I  have  no  permission  to  shoot  over  this  island." 

"  Your  excellency  does  not  require  a  permission,  for  the 
island  is  uninhabited." 

"  Ah,  indeed  !"  said  the  young  man.  "A  desert  island 
in  the  midst  of  the  Mediterranean  must  be  a  curiosity." 

"It  is  very  natural;  this  isle  is  a  mass  of  rocks  and  does 
not  contain  an  acre  of  land  capable  of  cultivation." 

"To  whom  does  this  island  belong?" 

"To  Tuscany." 

"  What  game  shall  I  find  there?" 

"  Thousands  of  wild  goats." 

"  Who  live  upon  the  stones,  I  suppose,"  said  Franz,  with 
an  incredulous  smile. 

"  No,  but  by  browsing  the  shrubs  and  trees  that  grow 
out  of  the  crevices  of  the  rocks." 

"Where  can  I  sleep  ?" 

"  On  shore,  in  the  grottoes,  or  on  board  in  your  cloak; 
besides,  if  your  excellency  pleases,  we  can  leave  as  soon  as 
the  chase  is  finished — we  can  sail  as  well  by  night  as  by 
day  and  if  the  wind  drops  we  can  use  our  oars. 

As  Franz  had  sufficient  time,  and,  besides,  had  no 
longer  his  apartments  at  Rome  to  seek  after,  he  accepted 
the  proposition.-  Upon  his  answer  in  the  affirmative,  the 
sailors  exchanged  a  few  words  together  in  a  low  tone 
"  Well!"  asked  he,  "what!  is  there  any  difficulty  to  be 
surmounted  ?" 

"  No,"  replied  the  captain,  "but  we  must  warn  your 
excellency  that  the  island  is  contumacious." 

"  What  do  you  mean?" 

"  That  Monte  Cristo,  although  uninhabited,  yet  serves 
occasionally  as  a  refuge  for  the  smugglers  and  pirates  who 
come  from  Corsica,  Sardinia  and  Africa,  and,  that  if  any- 


TEE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRI8TO.  301 

thing  betrays  that  we  have  been  there,  we  shall  have  to 
perform  quarantine  for  six  days  on  our  return  to  Leg- 
horn. " 

"  The  devil !  that  is  quite  another  thing;  rather  a  long 
time,  too." 

"  But  who  will  say  your  excellency  has  been  to  Monte 
Cristo?" 

"  Oh,  I  shall  not/'  cried  Franz. 

"  Nor  I,  nor  I,"  chorused  the  sailors. 

•''  Then  steer  for  Monte  Cristo/' 

The  captain  gave  his  orders,  the  helm  was  put  up,  and 
the  bark  was  soon  sailing  in  the  direction  of  the  island. 
Franz  waited  until  all  was  finished,  and  when  the  sail  was 
filled  and  the  four  sailors  had  taken  their  places — three 
forward,  and  one  at  the  helm — he  resumed  the  conversa- 
tion. "  Gaetano,"  said  he  to  the  captain,  "you  tell  me 
Monte  Cristo  serves  as  a  refuge  for  pirates,  who  are,  it 
seems  to  me,  a  very  different  kind  of  game  from  the 


"  Yes,  your  excellency,  and  it  is  true." 

"  I  knew  there  were  smugglers,  but,  I  thought  that 
since  the  capture  of  Algiers,  and  the  destruction  of  the 
regency,  pira'tes  only  existed  in  the  romances  of  Cooper 
and  Capt.  Marryat." 

"  Your  excellency  is  mistaken;  there  are  pirates,  like 
the  bandits  who  were  believed  to  have  been  exterminated 
by  Pope  Leo  XII,  and  who  yet  every  day  rob  travelers  at 
the  gates  of  Eome.  Has  not  your  excellency  heard  that 
the  French  charge  d'  affaires  was  robbed  six  months  ago 
within  500  paces  of  Velletri?" 

"  Oh  yes,  I  heard  that." 

"  Well,  then,  if,  like  us,  your  excellency  lived  at  Leg- 
horn, you  would  hear,  from  time  to  time,  that  a  little 
merchant  vessel,  or  an  English  yacht  that  was  expected  at 
Bastia,  at  Porto  Ferrajo,  or  at  Civita  Vecchia,  has  not  ar- 
rived; no  one  knows  what  has  become  of  it,  but,  doubt- 
less, it  has  struck  on  a  rock  and  foundered.  Now  this 
rock  it  has  met  has  been  a  long  and  narrow  boat,  manned 
by  six  or  eight  men,  who  have  surprised  and  plundered  it, 
some  dark  and  stormy  night,  near  some  desert  and  gloomy 
isle,  as  bandits  plunder  a  carriage  at  the  corner  of  a 
wood." 

"But,"  asked  Franz,  who  lay  wrapped  in  his  cloak   at 


302  THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRI8TO. 

the  bottom  of  the  bark,  "why  do  not  those  who  have 
been  plundered  complain  to  the  French,  Sardiuian  or 
Tuscan  governments?" 

"  Why.?"  said  Gaetano,  with  a  smile. 

"  Yes,  why?" 

"  Because,  in  the  first  place,  they  transfer  from  the 
vessel  to  their  own  boat  whatever  they  think  worth  taking, 
then  they  bind  the  crew  hand  and  foot,  they  attach  to 
every  one's  neck  a  twenty-four  pound  ball,  a  large  hole  is 
pierced  in  the  vessel's  bottom,  and  then  they  leave  her. 
At  the  end  of  ten  minutes  the  vessel  begins  to  roll,  labor, 
and  then  sink;  then  one  of  the  sides  plunges  and  then  the 
other;  it  rises  and  sinks  again;  suddenly  a  noise  like  the 
report  of  a  cannon  is  heard — it  is  the  air  blowing  up  the 
deck;  soon  the  water  rushes  out  of  the  scupper  holes  like 
a  whale  spouting,  the  vessel  gives  a  last  groan,  spins  round 
and  round,  and  disappears,  forming  a  vast  whirlpool  in  the 
ocean,  and  then  all  is  over;  so  that  in  five  minutes  nothing 
but  the  eye  of  God  can  see  the  vesssel  where  she  lies  at 
the  bottom  of  the  sea.  Do  you  understand  now,"  said 
the  captain,  "why  no  complaints  are  made  to  the  govern- 
ment, and  why  the  vessel  does  not  arrive  at  the  port." 

It  is  probable  that  if  Gaetano  had  related  this  previous 
to  proposing  the  expedition,  Franz  would  have  hesitated 
ere  he  accepted  it,  but  now  that  they  had  started  he 
thought  it  would  be  cowardly  to  draw  back.  He  was  one 
of  those  men  who  do  not  rashly  court  danger,  but  if  dan- 
ger  presents  itself,  combat  it  with  the  most  unalterable  sang 
froid — he  was  one  of  those  calm  and  resolute  men  who 
look  upon  a  danger  as  an  adversary  in  a  duel,  who,  calcu- 
lating his  movements,  study  his  attacks;  who  retreat  suffi- 
ciently to  take  breath,  but  not  to  appear  cowardly;  who, 
understanding  all  their  advantages,  kill  at  a  single  blow. 
4f  Bah!"  said  he,  "  I  have  traveled  through  Sicily  and 
Calabria — I  have  sailed  two  months  in  the  Archipelago, 
and  yet  I  never  saw  even  the  shadow  of  a  bandit  or  a 
pirate." 

"  I  did  not  tell  your  excellency  this  to  deter  you  from 
your  project,"  replied  Gaetano,  "but  you  questioned  me, 
and  I  have  answered,  that's  all." 

"  Yes,  and  your  conversation  is  most  interesting;  and, 
as  I  wish  to  enjoy  it  as  long  as  possible,  steer  for  Monte 
Cristo." 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO.  303 

The  wind  blew  strongly,  the  bark  sailed  six  or  seven 
knots  an  hour,  and  they  were  rapidly  reaching  the  end  of 
their  voyage.  As  they  approached  the  isle  became  larger, 
and  they  could  already  distinguish  the  rocks  heaped  on 
one  another,  like  bullets  in  an  arsenal,  in  whose  crevices 
they  could  see  the  green  bushes  and  trees  that  were  grow- 
ing. As  for  the  sailors,  although  they  appeared  perfectly 
tranquil,  yet  it  was  evident  that  they  were  on  the  alert, 
and  that  they  carefully  watched  the  glassy  surface  over 
which  they  were  sailing,  and  on  which  a  few  fishing 
boats,  with  their  white  sails,  were  alone  visible.  They 
were  within  fifteen  miles  of  Monte  Cristo  when  the  sun 
began  to  set  behind  Corsica,  whose  mountains  appeared 
against  the  sky,  and  showing  their  rugged  peaks  in  bold 
relief;  this  mass  of  stones,  like  the  giant  Adamastor,  rose 
threateningly  before  the  bark,  from  which  it  shaded  the 
sun  that  gilded  its  lower  parts.  By  degrees  the  shadow 
rose  from  the  sea,  and  seemed  to  drive  before  it  the  last 
rays  of  the  expiring  day;  at  last  the  reflection  rested  on 
the  summit  of  the  mountain,  where  it  paused  an  instant, 
like  the  fiery  crest  of  a  volcano;  then  the  shadow  gradu- 
ally covered  the  summit  as  it  had  covered  the  base,  and 
the  isle  now  only  appeared  to  be  a  gray  mountain  that  grew 
continually  darker;  half  an  hour  after,  and  the  night  was 
quite  dark. 

Fortunately  the  mariners  were  used  to  these  latitudes, 
and  knew  every  rock  in  the  Tuscan  Archipelago;  for  in 
the  midst  of  this  obscurity  Franz  was  not  without  uneasi- 
ness— Corsica  had  long  since  disappeared,  and  Monte 
Cristo  itself  was  invisible;  but  the  sailors  seemed,  like  the 
lynx,  to  see  in  the  dark,  and  the  pilot  who  steered  did  not 
evince  the  slightest  hesitation.  An  hour  had  passed  since 
the  sun  had  set,  when  Franz  fancied  he  saw,  at  a  quarter 
of  a  mile  to  the  left,  a  dark  mass,  but  it  was  impossible  to 
make  out  what  it  was,  and  fearing  to  excite  the  mirth  of 
the  sailors,  by  mistaking  a  floating  cloud  for  land,  he -re- 
mained silent;  suddenly,  a  great  light  appeared  on  the 
strand;  land  might  resemble  a  cloud,  but  the  fire  was  not 
a  meteor.  "  What  is  this  light?"  asked  he. 
"  Silence!"  said  the  captain;  "it  is  a  fire." 
"  But  you  told  me  the  isle  was  uninhabited?" 
"  I  said  there  were  no  fixed  habitations  on  it;  but,  I 
said  also  that  it  served  sometimes  as  a  harbor  for  smug- 
glers." 


304  THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO. 

"  And  for  pirates?" 

"  And  for  pirates,"  returned  Gaetano,  repeating  Franz's 
words.  "  It  is  for  that  reason  I  have  given  orders  to  pass 
the  isle,  for,  as  you  see,  the  fire  is  behind  us." 

"But  this  fire?"  continued  Franz.  "It  seems  to  me 
rather  to  assure  than  alarm  us;  men  who  did  not  wish  to  be 
seen  would  not  light  a  fire." 

"Oh,  that  goes  for  nothing,"  said  Gaetano.  "If  you 
can  guess  the  position  of  the  isle  in  the  darkness,  you  will 
see  that  the  fire  cannot  be  seen  from  the  side,  or  from 
Pianoso,  but  only  from  the  sea." 

"  You  think,  then,  that  this  fire  announces  unwelcome 
neighbors?" 

"  That  is  what  we  must  ascertain,"  returned  Gaetano, 
fixing  his  eyes  on  this  terrestrial  star. 

"  How  can  you  ascertain?" 

"You  shall  see." 

Gaetano  consulted  with  his  companions,  and  after  five 
minutes'  discussion  a  maneuver  was  executed  which  caused 
the  vessel  to  tack  about,  they  returned  the  way  they  had 
come,  and  in  a  few  minutes  the  fire  disappeared,  hidden 
by  a  rise  in  the  land.  The  pilot  again  changed  the  course 
of  the  little  bark,  which  rapidly  approached  the  isle, 
and  was  soon  within  fifty  paces  of  it.  Gaetauo  lowered 
the  sail,  and  the  bark  remained  stationary.  All  this  was 
done  in  silence,  and  since  their  course  had  been  changed, 
not  a  word  was  spoken. 

Gaetano,  who  had  proposed  the  expedition,  had  taken 
all  the  responsibility  on  himself;  the  four  sailors  fixed  their 
eyes  on  him,  while  they  prepared  their  oars  and  held 
themselves  in  readiness  to  row  away,  which,  thanks  to  the 
darkness,  would  not  be  difficult.  As  for  Franz,  he  ex- 
amined his  arms  with  the  utmost  coolness ;  he  had  two 
double-barrelled  guns  and  a  rifle;  he  loaded  them,  looked 
at  the  locks,  and  waited  quietly.  During  this  time  the 
captain  had  thrown  off  his  vest  and  shirt,  and  secured  his 
trousers  round  his  waist;  his  feet  were  naked,  so  he  had  no 
shoes  and  stockings  to  take  off;  after  these  preparations  he 
placed  his  fingers  on  his  lips,  and  lowering  himself  noise- 
lessly into  the  sea,  swam  toward  the  shore  with  such  pre- 
caution that  it  was  impossible  to  hear  the  slightest  sound; 
he  could  only  be  traced  by  the  phosphorescent  line  in  his 
wake.  This  track  soon  disappeared  ;  it  was  evident  that 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRI8TO.  305 

he  had  touched  the  shore.  Every  one  on  board  remained 
motionless  during  half  an  hour,  when  the  same  luminous 
track  was  again  observed,  and  in  two  strokes  he  had  re- 
gained the  bark. 

"Well!"  exclaimed  Franz  and  the  sailors  all  together. 

"They  are  Spanish  smugglers,"  said  he;  "they  have 
with  them  two  Corsican  bandits." 

"And  what  are  these  Corsican  bandits  doing  here  with 
Spanish  smugglers." 

"Alas!"  returned  the  captain,  with  an  accent  of  the 
most  profound  pity,  "  we  ought  always  to  help  one  another. 
Very  often  the  bandits  are  hard  pressed  by  gendarmes  or 
carabineers;  well,  they  see  a  bark,  and  good  fellows  like 
us  on  board,  they  come  and  demand  hospitality  of  us;  you 
can't  refuse  help  to  a  poor  hunted  devil ;  we  receive  them, 
and  for  greater  security  we  stand  out  to  sea.  This  costs  us 
nothing,  and  saves  the  life,  or  at  least  the  liberty,  of  a 
fellow- creature,  who  on  the  first  occasion  returns  the  serv- 
ice by  pointing  out  some  safe  spot  where  we  can  land  our 
goods  without  interruption." 

"Ah  !"  said  Franz,  "  then  you  are  a  smuggler  occas- 
ionally, Gaetano?" 

"  Your  excellency,  we  must  live  somehow,"  returned  the 
other,  smiling  in  a  way  impossible  to  describe. 

"  Then  you  know  the  men  who  are  on  Monte  Cristo?" 

"  Oh,  yes,  we  sailors  are  like  freemasons,  and  recognize 
each  other  by  signs." 

"And  do  you  think  we  have  nothing  to  fear  if  we 
land?" 

"  Nothing  at  all!  smugglers  are  not  thieves." 

"  But  these  two  Corsican  bandits?"  said  Franz,  calculat- 
ing the  chances  of  peril. 

"  It  is  not  their  faults  that  they  are  bandits,  but  that 
of  the  authorities." 

"How  so?" 

"Because  they  are  pursued  for  having  made  a,peau,  as 
if  it  was  not  in  a  Corsican's  nature  to  revenge  himself." 


"  What  do  you  mean  by  having  made  a  peau? — having 
assassinated  a  man?"  said  Franz,  continuing  his  investi- 
gation. 

"I  mean  that  they  have  killed  an  enemy,  which  is  a 
very  different  thing,"  returned  the  captain. 

"  Well,"  said  the  young  man,  "let  us  demand  hospitality 


306  THE  CO  UNT  OF-  MONTE  CRI8TO. 

of  these  smugglers  and  bandits.  Do  you  think  they  will 
grant  it?" 

"Without  doubt/' 

"How  many  are  they?" 

"  Four,  and  the  two  bandits  make  six." 

"  Just  our  number,  so  that  if  they  prove  troublesome, 
we  shall  be  able  to  check  them;  so,  for  the  last  time,  steer 
to  Monte  Cristo." 

"  Yes,  but  your  excellency  will  permit  us  to  take  all  due 
precautions." 

"  By  all  means  be  as  wise  as  Nestor  and  as  prudent  as 
Ulysses;  I  do  more  than  permit,  I  exhort  you." 

"  Silence  then!"  said  Gaetano. 

Every  one  obeyed.  For  a  man  who,  like  Franz,  viewed 
his  position  in  its  true  light,  it  was  a  grave  one.  He  was 
alone  in  the  darkness  with  sailors  whom  he  did  not  know, 
and  who  had  no  reason  to  be  devoted  to  him;  who  knew 
that  he  had  in  his  belt  several  thousand  francs,  and  who 
had  often  examined  his  arms,  which  were  very  beautiful, 
if  not  with  envy,  at  least  with  curiosity.  On  the  other 
hand,  he  was  about  to  land  without  any  other  escort  than 
these  men,  on  an  island  whose  name  was  religious,  but 
which  did  not  seem  to  Franz  likely  to  afford  him  much 
hospitality,  thanks  to  the  smugglers  and  bandits.  The 
history  of  the  scuttled  vessels,  which  had  appeared  improb- 
able during  the  day,  seemed  very  probable  at  night;  placed 
as  he  was  between  two  imaginary  dangers,  he  had  not  quit 
the  crew  with  his  eyes,  or  his  gun  with  his  hand.  How- 
ever, the  sailors  had  again  hoisted  the  sail,  and  the  vessel 
was  once  more  cleaving  the  waves.  Through  the  darkness 
Franz,  whose  eyes  were  now  more  accustomed  to  it,  dis- 
tinguished the  granite  giant  by  which  the  bark  was  sail- 
ing, and  then,  turning  and  angle  of  the  rock,  he  saw  the 
fire  more  brilliant  than  ever,  round  which  five  or  six  per- 
sons were  seated.  The  blaze  illumined  the  sea  for  a  hun- 
dred paces  round.  Gaetano  skirted  the  light,  carefully 
keeping  the  bark  out  of  its  rays ;  then,  when  they  were 
opposite  the  fire,  he  entered  into  the  center  of  the  circle, 
singing  a  fishing  song,  of  which  his  companions  sung  the 
chorus.  At  the  first  word  of  the  song,  the  men  seated 
round  the  fire  rose  and  approached  the  landing-place,  their 
eyes  fixed  on  the  bark,  of  which  they  evidently  sought 
to  judge  the  force  and  devine  the  intention.  They  soon 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO.  307 

appeared  satisfied  and  returned  (with  the  exception  of  one, 
who  remained  at  the  shore)  to  their  fire,  at  which  a  whole 
goat  was  roasting,  When  the  bark  was  within  twenty 
paces  of  the  shore,  the  man  on  the  beach  made  with  his 
carbine  the  movement  of  a  sentinel  who  sees  a  patrol,  and 
cried:  "  Who  goes  there  ?"  in  Sardinian.  Franz  coolly 
cocked  both  barrels.  Gaetano  then  exchanged  a  few  words 
with  this  man,  which  the  traveler  did  not  understand,  but 
which  evidently  concerned  him. 

"  Will  your  excellency  give  your  name,  or  remain  incog- 
nito?" asked  the  captain. 

"My  name  must  rest  unknown — merely  say  I  am  a 
Frenchman  traveling  for  pleasure." 

As  soon  as  Gaetano  had  transmitted  this  answer,  the 
sentinel  gave  an  order  to  one  of  the  men  seated  round  the 
fire,  who  rose  and  disappeared  among  the  rocks.  Not  a 
word  was  spoken,  every  one  seemed  occupied,  Franz  with 
his  disembarkment,  the  sailors  with  their  sails,  the  smug- 
glers with  their  goat ;  but  in  the  midst  of  all  this  care- 
lessness it  was  evident  that  they  mutually  observed  each 
other.  The  man  who  had  disappeared  returned  suddenly, 
on  the  opposite  side  to  that  by  which  he  had  left;  he  made 
a  sign  with  his  head  to  the  sentinel,  who,  turning  to  the 
bark,  uttered  these  words,  "  S'accrnnodi."  The  Italian 
s'accomodi  is  untranslatable  ;  it  means  at  once,  "  Come, 
enter,  you  are  welcome;  make  yourself  at  home;  you  are 
the  master."  It  is  like  that  Turkish  phrase  of  Molidre's 
that  so  astonished  le  bourgeois  gentilhomme  by  the  number 
of  things  it  contained.  The  sailors  did  not  wait  for  a 
second  invitation;  four  strokes  of  the  oar  brought  them  to 
the  land;  Gaetano  sprang  to  shore,  exchanged  a  few  words 
with  the  sentinel,  then  his  comrades  descended,  and  lastly 
came  Franz's  turn.  One  of  his  guns  was  swung  over  hia 
shoulder,  Gaetano  had  the  other,  and  a  sailor  held  his  rifle; 
his  dress,  half  artist,  half  dandy,  did  not  excite  any  suspi- 
cion, and,  consequently,  no  disquietude.  The  bark  was 
moored  to  the  shore,  and  they  advanced  a  few  paces  to  find 
a  comfortable  bivouac;  but,  doubtless,  the  spot  they  chose 
did  not  suit  the  smuggler  who  filled  the  post  of  sentinel, 
for  he  cried  out:  "  Not  that  way,  if  you  please." 

Gaetano  faltered  an  excuse,  and  advanced  to  the  oppo- 
site side,  while  two  sailors  kindled  torches  at  the  fire  to 
light  them  on  their  way.  They  advanced  about  thirty 


308  THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO. 

paces,  and  then  stopped  at  a  small  esplanade,  surrounded 
with  rocks,  in  which  seats  had  been  cut,  not  unlike  sentry- 
boxes.  Around  in  the  crevices  of  the  rocks  grew  a  few 
dwarf  oaks  and  thick  bushes  of  myrtles.  Franz  lowered  a 
torch,  and  saw,  by  the  light  of  a  mass  of  cinders,  that  he 
was  not  the  first  to  discover  the  retreat,  which  was,  doubt- 
less, one  of  the  halting-places  of  the  wandering  visitors  of 
Monte  Cristo.  As  for  his  anticipation  of  events,  once  on 
terra firma,  once  that  he  had  seen  the  indifferent,  if  not 
friendly,  appearance  of  his  hosts,  his  pre-occupation  had 
disappeared,  or  rather,  at  sight  of  the  goat,  had  turned  to 
appetite.  He  mentioned  this  to  Gaetano,  who  replied  that 
nothing  could  be  more  easy  than  to  prepare  a  supper  when 
they  had  in  their  boat  bread,  wine,  half  a  dozen  partridges, 
and  a  good  fire  to  roast  them  by.  "  Besides,"  added  he, 
"  if  the  smell  of  their  roast  meats  tempts  you,  I  will  go  and 
offer  them  two  of  our  birds  for  a  slice." 

"  You  seem  born  for  negotiation,"  returned  Franz;  "  go 
and  try.'* 

During  this  time  the  sailors  had  collected  dried  sticks 
and  branches,  with  which  they  made  a  fire.  Franz  waited 
impatiently,  smelling  the  odor  of  the  goat,  when  the  cap- 
tain returned  with  a  mysterious  air. 

"  Well,"  said  Franz,  "  anything  new?— do  they  refuse?" 

"  On  the  contrary,"  returned  G-aetano,  "  the  chief,  who 
was  told  you  were  a  young  Frenchman,  invites  you  to  sup 
with  him." 

"  Well,"  observed  Franz,  "  this  chief  is  very  polite,  and 
I  see  no  objection — the  more  so  as  I  bring  my  share  of  the 
supper.  " 

"  Oh,  it  is  not  that — he  has  plenty,  and  to  spare,  for 
supper;  but  he  attaches  a  singular  condition  to  your  pres- 
entation at  his  house." 

"His  house!  has  he  built  one  here,  then?" 

"  No,  but  he  has  a  very  comfortable  one,  all  the  same, 
so  they  say." 

"  You  know  this  chief,  then?" 

"  I  have  heard  talk  of  him." 

"Ill  or  well?" 

"Both." 

"  The  devil! — and  what  is  this  condition P" 

"  That  you  are  blindfolded,  and  do  not  take  off  the 
bandage  nntil  he  himself  bids  you." 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  ORI8W.  309 

Franz  looked  at  Gaetauo,  to  see,  if  possible,  what  he 
thought  of  this  proposal. 

"  Ah,"  replied  he,  guessing  Franz's  thought,  "  I  know 
this  merits  reflection." 

"  What  should  you  do  in  my  place?" 

"  I,  who  have  nothing  to  lose,  I  should  go." 

"You  would  accept?" 

"  Yes,  were  it  only  out  of  curiosity." 

"  There  is  something  very  curious  about  this  chief, 
then  ?" 

"Listen,"  said  Gaetano,  lowering  his  voice,  "  I  do  not 
know  if  what  they  say  is  true " 

He  stopped  to  look  if  any  one  was  near. 

"What  do  they  say?" 

"  That  tliis  chief  inhabits  a  cavern  to  which  the  Pitti 
Palace  is  nothing." 

"  What  nonsense!"  said  Franz,  reseating  himself. 

"  It  is  no  nonsense;  it  is  quite  true.  Cama,  the  pilot  of 
the  St.  Ferdinand,  went  in  once,  and  he  came  back  amazed, 
vowing  that  such  treasures  were  only  to  be  heard  of  in  fairv 
tales." 

"Do  you  know,"  observed  Franz,  "that  with  such 
stories  you  would  make  me  enter  the  enchanted  cavern  of 
Ali  Baba?" 

"I  tell  you  what  I  have  been  told." 

"  Then  you  advise  me  to  accept?" 

"  Oh,  I  don't  say  that ;  your  excellency  will  do  as  you 
please;  I  should  be  sorry  to  advise  you  in  the  matter." 

Franz  reflected  a  few  moments,  felt  that  a  man  so  rich 
could  not  have  any  intention  of  plundering  him  of  what 
little  he  had,  and  seeing  only  the  prospect  of  a  good 
supper,  he  accepted.  Gaetano  departed  with  the  reply. 
Franz  was  prudent,  and  wished  to  learn  all  he  possibly 
could  concerning  his  host.  He  turned  toward  the  sailor, 
who,  during  this  dialogue,  had  sat  gravely  plucking  the 
partridges  with  the  air  of  a  man  proud  of  his  office,  and 
asked  him  how  these  men  had  lauded,  as  no  vessel  of  any 
kind  was  visible. 

"  Never  mind  that,"  returned  the  sailor,  "I  know  their 


"Is  it  a  very  beautiful  vessel?" 

"  I  would  not  wish  for  a  better  to  sail  round  the  world.' 

"Of  what  burden  is  she?" 

DTMAS — VOL.   I.  — 14 


310  THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO. 

"  About  a  hundred  tons;  but  she  is  built  to  stand  any 
weather.  She  is  what  the  English  call  a  yacht." 

"  Where  was  she  built?" 

"  I  know  not;  but  my  own  opinion  is  she  is  a  Genoese." 

"And  how  did  a  leader  of  smugglers,"  continued  Franz, 
"  venture  to  build  a  vessel  designed  for  such  a  purpose  at 
Genoa?" 

"  I  did  not  say  that  the  owner  was  a  smuggler,"  replied 
the  sailor. 

"  No;  but  Gaetano  did,  I  thought." 

"  Gaetano  had  only  seen  the  vessel  from  a  distance,  he 
had  not  then  spoken  to  any  one/" 


mysterious, 
since  the  two  accounts  do  not  agree." 
"What  is  his  name?" 

"  If  you  ask  him  he  says  '  Sinbad  the  Sailor;*  but  I  doubt 
its  being  his  real  name." 
"  '  Sinbad  the  Sailor?' " 
:  Yes." 

And  where  does  he  reside?" 
On  the  sea." 

What  country  does  he  come  from?" 
I  do  not  know." 
"  Have  you  ever  seen  him  ?" 
"  Sometimes." 

"What  sort  of  a  man  is  he?" 
"  Your  excellency  will  judge  for  yourself." 
"  Where  will  he  receive  me?" 

"  No  doubt  in  the  subterranean  palace  Gaetano  told 
you  of." 

"  Have  you  never  had  the  curiosity,  when  you  have 
landed  and  found  the  island  deserted,  to  seek  for  this  en- 
chanted palace  ?" 

"Oh,  yes,  more  than  once,  but  always  in  vain;  we  exam- 
ined the  grotto  all  over,  but  we  never  could  find  the  slight- 
est trace  of  any  opening;  they  say  that  the  door  is  not 
opened  by  a  key,  but  a  magic  word." 

"  Decidedly,"  muttered  Franz,  "  this  is  an  adventure  of 
the  '  Arabian  Nights.'  " 

"  His  excellency  waits  for  you,"  said  a  voice,  which  he 
recognized  as  that  of  the  sentinel. 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTR  CRISTO.  311 

He  was  accompanied  by  two  of  the  yacht's  crew.  Franz 
drew  his  handkerchief  from  his  pocket  and  presented  it  to 
the  man  who  had  spoken  to  him.  Without  uttering  a  Avord 
they  bandaged  his  eyes  with  a  care  that  showed  their 
apprehensions  of  his  committing  some  indiscretion.  After- 
ward he  was  made  to  promise  he  would  not  make  the  least 
attempt  to  raise  the  bandage.  He  promised. 

Then  his  two  guides  took  his  arms  and  he  advanced, 
guided  by  them,  and  preceded  by  the  sentinel.  After 
advancing  about  thirty  paces  he  smelled  the  appetizing  odor 
of  the  kid  that  was  roasting,  and  knew  thus  that  he  was 
passing  the  bivouac;  they  then  led  him  on  about  fifty  paces 
further,  evidently  advancing  toward  the  shore,  where  they 
would  not  allow  Gaetano  to  penetrate — a  refusal  he  could 
now  comprehend.  Presently,  by  a  change  in  the  atmos- 
phere, he  comprehended  that  they  were  entering  a  cave; 
after  going  on  for  a  few  seconds  more  he  heard  a  crackling, 
and  it  seemed  to  him  as  though  the  atmosphere  again 
changed  and  became  balmy  and  perfumed.  At  length  his 
feet  touched  on  a  thick  and  soft  carpet  and  his  guides  let 
go  their  hold  of  him.  There  was  a  moment's  silence,  and 
then  a  voice  in  excellent  French,  although  with  a  foreign 
accent,  said: 

"Welcome,  sir.     I  beg  you  will  remove  your  bandage." 

It  my  be  supposed,  then,  Franz  did  not  wait  for  a  repe- 
tition of  this  permission,  but  took  off  the  handkerchief 
and  found  himself  in  the  presence  of  a  man  from  38  to 
40  years  of  age,  dressed  in  a  Tunisian  costume — that  is  to 
eay,  a  red  cap  with  a  long,  blue  silk  tassel,  a  vest  of  black 
cloth  embroidered  with  gold,  pantaloons  of  deep  red,  large 
and  full  gaiters  of  the  same  color,  embroidered  with  gold 
like  the  vest,  and  yellow  slippers.  He  had  a  splendid 
cachemire  round  his  waist  and  a  small,  sharp  and  crooked 
cangier  was  passed  through  his  girdle.  Although  of  a 
paleness  that  was  almost  livid,  this  man  had  a  remarkably 
handsome  face;  his  eyes  were  penetrating  and  sparkling;  a 
nose,  quite  straight  and  projecting  direct  from  the  brow, 
gave  out  the  Greek  type  in  all  its  purity,  while  his  teeth, 
as  white  as  pearls,  were  set  off  to  admiration  by  the  black 
moustache  that  encircled  them. 

This  pallor  was  so  peculiar  that  it  seemed  as  though  it 
were  that  which  would  be  exhibited  by  a  man  who  had 
been  inclosed  for  a  long  time  in  a  tomb,  and  who  was 


312  THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO. 

unable  to  resume  the  healthy  glow  and  hue  of  the  living. 
He  was  not  particularly  tall,  but  extremely  well  made,  and, 
like  the  men  of  the  south,  had  small  hands  and  feet.  But 
what  astonished  Franz,  who  had  treated  Gaetano's  descrip- 
tion as  a  fable,  was  the  splendor  of  the  apartment  in  which 
he  found  himself.  The  entire  chamber  was  lined  with 
crimson  brocade,  worked  with  flowers  of  gold.  In  a  recess 
was  a  kind  of  divan,  surmounted  with  a  stand  of  Arabian 
swords  in  silver  scabbards  and  the  handles  resplendant  with 
gems;  from  the  ceiling  hung  a  lamp  of  Venice  glass,  of 
beautiful  shape  and  color,  while  the  feet  rested  on  a  Turkey 
carpet  in  which  they  sunk  to  the  instep;  tapestry  hung 
before  the  door  by  which  Franz  had  entered,  and  also  in 
front  of  another  door  leading  into  a  second  apartment, 
which  seemed  to  be  brilliantly  lighted  up.  The  host  gave 
Franz  time  for  his  surprise  and,  moreover,  rendered  him 
look  for  look,  not  even  taking  his  eyes  off  him. 

"  Sir/'  he  said,  after  some  pause,  "  a  thousand  excuses 
for  the  precaution  taken  in  your  introduction  hither;  but 
as  during  the  greater  portion  of  the  year  this  island  is 
deserted,  if  the  secret  of  this  abode  were  discovered  I  should, 
doubtless,  find  on  my  return  my  temporary  retirement  in  a 
a  state'  of  great  disorder,  which  would  be  exceedingly 
annoying,  not  for  the  loss  it  occasioned  me,  but  because  I 
should  not  have  the  certainty  I  now  possess  of  separating 
myself  from  all  the  rest  of  mankind  at  pleasure.  Let  me 
now  endeavor  to  make  you  forget  this  temporary  unpleas- 
antness and  offer  you  what,  no  doubt,  you  did  not  expect 
to  find  here — that  is  to  say,  a  tolerable  supper  and  pretty 
comfortable  beds." 

" Ma  foil  my  dear  sir,"  replied  Franz,  "  make  no 
apologies.  I  have  always  observed  that  they  bandage 
people's  eyes  who  penetrate  enchanted  palaces;  for  in- 
stance, those  of  Kaoul,  in  the  "  Huguenots,"  and  really  I 
have  nothing  to  complain  of,  for  what  I  see  is  a  sequel  to 
the  wonders  of  the  "Arabian  Nights." 

"Alas!  I  may  say  with  Lucullus,  if  I  could  have  antici- 
pated the  honor  of  your  visit,  I  would  have  prepared  for 
it.  But  such  as  is  my  hermitage,  it  is  at  your  disposal; 
such  as  is  my  supper,  it  is  yours  to  share,  if  you  will.  Ali, 
is  the  supper  ready?" 

At  this  moment  the  tapestry  moved  aside  and  a  Nubian, 
black  as  ebony,  and  dressed  in  a  plain,  white  tunic,  made 


\ 
7 HE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRI8TO.  313 

a  sign  to  his  master  that  all  was  prepared  in  the  salle-a- 
m  anger. 

"  Now,"  said  the  unknown  to  Franz,  "  I  do  not  know 
if  yon  are  of  my  opinion,  but  I  think  nothing  is  more 
annoying  than  to  remain  two  or  three  hours  tete-a-tete 
without  knowing  by  name  or  appellation  how  to  address 
one  another.  Pray  observe  that  I  too  much  respect  the 
laws  of  hospitality  to  ask  your  name  or  title.  I  only  request 
you  to  give  me  one  by  which  I  may  have  the  pleasure  of 
addressing  you.  As  for  myself,  that  I  may  put  you  at 
your  ease,  I  tell  you  that  I  am  generally  called  'Sinbad  the 
Sailor/" 

"And  I,"  replied  Franz,  "  will  tell  you,  as  I  only 
require  his  wonderful  lamp  to  make  me  precisely  like 
Aladdin,  that  I  see  no  reason  why  at  this  moment  I  should 
not  be  called  Aladdin.  That  will  keep  us  from  going 
away  from  the  east,  whither  I  am  tempted  to  think  I  have 
been  conveyed  by  some  good  genus." 

"Well,  then,  Signer  Aladdin,"  replied  the  singular 
Amphityron,  "you  have  heard  our  repast  announced;  will 
you  now  take  the  trouble  to  enter  the  salle-a-manger,  your 
humble  servant  going  first  to  show  the  way?" 

At  these  words,  moving  aside  the  tapestry,  Sinbad  pre- 
ceded his  guest.  Franz  proceeded  from  one  enchantment 
to  another;  the  table  was  splendidly  covered,  and,  once 
convinced  of  this  important  point,  he  cast  his  eyes  around 
him.  The  salle-a-manger  was  scarcely  less  striking  than 
the  boudoir  he  had  just  left;  it  was  entirely  of  marble, 
with  antique  bas-reliefs  of  priceless  value;  and  at  the  four 
corners  of  this  apartment,  which  was  oblong,  were  four 
magnificent  statues,  having  baskets  in  their  hands.  These 
baskets  contained  four  pyramids  of  most  splendid  fruit; 
there  were  the  pine-apples  of  Sicily,  pomegranates  from 
Malaga,  oranges  from  the  Balearic  Isles,  peaches  from 
France  and  dates  from  Tunis.  The  supper  consisted  of  a 
roast  pheasant,  garnished  with  Corsican  blackbirds;  a  boar's 
ham  a  la  gelee,  a  quarter  of  a  kid  a  la  tartare,  a  glorious 
turbot  and  a  gigantic  lobster.  Between  these  large  dishes 
were  smaller  ones  containing  various  dainties.  The  dishes 
were  of  silver  and  the  plates  of  Japanese  china. 

Franz  rubbed  his  eyes  in  order  to  assure  himself  that 
this  was  not  a  dream.  Ali  alone  was  present  to  wait  at 
table,  and  acquitted  himself  so  admirably  that  the  guest 
complimented  his  host  thereupon. 


31 4  THE  CO  UNT  OF  MONTE  CRI8TO. 

"Yes,"  replied  he,  while  he  did  the  honors  of  the 
supper  with  much  ease  and  grace,  "yes,  he  is  a  poor  devil 
who  is  much  devoted  to  me  and  does  all  he  can  to  prove 
it.  He  remembers  I  saved  his  life,  and  as  he  has  a  regard 
for  his  head,  he  feels  some  gratitude  toward  me  for  having 
kept  it  on  his  shoulders." 

Ali  approached  his  master,  took  his  hand  and  kissed  it. 

"  Would  it  be  impertinent,  Signor  Sinbad,"  said  Franz, 
"  to  ask  you  the  particulars  of  this  kindness?" 

"  Oh,  they  are  simple  enough,"  replied  the  host.  "  It 
seems  the  fellow  had  been  caught  wandering  nearer  to  the 
harem  of  the  Bey  of  Tunis  than  etiquette  permits  to  one 
of  his  color,  and  he  was  condemned  by  the  Bey  to  have  his 
tongue  cut  out  and  his  hand  and  head  cut  off;  the  tongue 
the  first  day,  the  hand  the  second,  and  the  head  the  third. 
I  always  had  a  desire  to  have  a  mute  in  my  service,  so 
learning  the  day  his  tongue  was  cut  out,  I  went  to  the  Bey 
and  proposed  to  give  him  for  Ali  a  splendid  double-bar- 
reled gun,  which  I  knew  he  was  very  desirous  of  having. 
He  hesitated  a  moment,  he  was  so  very  desirous  to  com- 
plete the  poor  devil's  punishment.  But  when  I  added  to 
the  gun  an  English  cutlass  with  which  I  had  shivered  his 
highness'  yataghan  to  pieces,  the  Bey  yielded  and  agreed 
to  forgive  the  hand  and  head,  but  on  condition  he  never 
again  set  foot  in  Tunis.  This  was  a  useless  clause  in  the; 
bargain,  for  whenever  the  coward  sees  the  first  glimpse  of 
the  shores  of  Africa  he  runs  down  below,  and  can  only  be 
induced  to  appear  again  when  we  are  out  of  sight  of  one 
quarter  of  the  globe." 

Franz  remained  a  moment  mute  and  pensive,  hardly 
knowing  what  to  think  of  the  half-kindness,  half-cruelty, 
with  which  his  host  related  the  brief  narrative. 

"  And  like  the  celebrated  sailor  whose  name  you  have 
assumed,"  he  said,  by  way  of  changing  the  conversation, 
"you  pass  your  life  in  traveling?" 

"  Yes.  I  made  a  vow  at  a  time  when  I  little  thought  I 
should  ever  be  able  to  accomplish  it,"  said  the  unknown, 
with  a  singular  smile;  "  and  I  made  some  others,  also,  which 
I  hope  I  may  fulfill  in  due  season." 

Although  Sinbad  pronounced  these  words  with  much 
calmness  his  eyes  darted  gleams  of  singular  ferocity. 

"You  have  suffered  a  great  deal,  sir?"  said  Franz, 
inquiringly. 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRI8TO.  315 

Sinbad  started  and  looked  fixedly  at  him,  as  he  replied : 
"  What  makes  you  suppose  so?" 

"  Everything  !"  answered  Franz  ;  "  your  voice,  your 
look,  your  pallid  complexion,  and  even  the  life  you 
lead."  " 

"I !  I  live  the  happiest  life  possible,  the  real  life  of  a 
pasha.  I  am  king  of  all  creation.  I  am  pleased  with  one 
place  and  stay  there;  I  get  tired  of  it  and  leave  it;  I  am 
free  as  a  bird,  and  have  wings  like  one;  my  attendants 
obey  me  at  a  signal.  Sometimes  I  amuse  myself  by  carry- 
ing off  from  human  justice  some  bandit  it  is  in  quest  of, 
some  criminal  whom  it  pursues.  Then  I  have  my  mode  of 
dispensing  justice,  silent  and  sure,  without  respite  or  ap- 
peal, which  condemns  or  pardons,  and  which  no  one  sees. 
All!  if  you  had  tasted  my  life,  you  would  not  desire  any 
other,  and  would  never  return  to  the  world  unless  you  had 
some  great  project  to  accomplish  there." 

"  A  vengeance,  for  instance,"  observed  Franz. 

The  unknown  fixed  on  the  young  man  one  of  those  looks 
which  penetrate  into  the  depth  of  the  heart  and  thoughts. 

"  And  why  a  vengeance?"  he  asked. 

"  Because,"  replied  Franz,  "  you  seem  to  me  like  a  man 
who,  persecuted  by  society,  has  a  fearful  account  to  settle 
with  it." 

"Ah!"  responded  Sinbad,  laughing  with  his  singular 
laugh,  which  displayed  his  white  and  sharp  teeth.  "  You 
have  not  guessed  rightly!  Such  as  you  see  me  I  am,  a  sort 
of  philosopher,  and  one  day,  perhaps,  I  shall  go  to  Paris  to 
rival  M.  Appert,  and  the  little  man  in  the  blue  cloak." 

"  And  will  that  be  the  first  time  you  ever  took  that 
journey?" 

"  Yes,  it  will!  I  must  seem  to  you  by  no  means  curious, 
but  I  assure  you  that  it  is  not  my  fault  I  have  delayed  it 
so  long — it  will  happan  one  day  or  the  other." 

"  And  do  you  propose  to  make  this  journey  very 
shortly?" 

"  I  do  not  know;  it  depends  on  circumstances  which 
depend  on  certain  arrangements!" 

"  I  should  like  to  be  there  at  the  time  you  come 
and  J  will  endeavor  to  repay  you,  as  far  as  lies  in  rny  power, 
for  your  liberal  hospitality,  displayed  to  me  at  Monte 
Cristo." 

"  I  should  avail  myself  of  your  offer  with  pleasure,"  re- 


316  THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CR1STO. 

plied  the  host,  "  but,  unfortunately,  if  I  go  there,  it  will 
be,  in  all  probability,  incognito." 

The  supper  appeared  to  have  been  supplied  solely  for 
Franz,  for  the  unknown  scarcely  touched  one  or  two  dishes 
of  the  splendid  banquet  to  which  his  guest  did  ample 
justice.  Then  Ali  brought  on  the  dessert,  or  rather  took 
the  baskets  from  the  hands  of  the  statues  and  placed  them 
on  the  table.  Between  the  two  baskets  he  placed  a  small 
silver  cup,  closed  with  the  lid  of  the  same.  The  care  with 
which  Ali  placed  this  cup  on  the  table  roused  Franz's 
curiosity.  He  raised  the  lid  and  saw  a  kind  of  greenish 
paste,  something  like  preserved  angelica,  but  which  was 
perfectly  unknown  to  him.  He  replaced  the  lid,  as  ig- 
norant of  what  the  cup  contained  as  he  was  before  he  had 
looked  at  it,  and  then  casting  his  eyes  toward  his  host  he 
saw  him  smile  at  his  disappointment. 

"  You  cannot  guess,"  said  he,  "  what  there  is  in  that 
small  vase,  can  you?" 

"  No,  I  really  cannot." 

"  Well,  then,  that  kind  of  green  preserve  is  nothing  less 
than  the  ambrosia  which  Hebe  served  at  the  table  of 
Jupiter." 

"  But,"  replied  Franz,  "  this  ambrosia,  no  doubt,  in 
passing  through  mortal  hands  has  lost  its  heavenly  appel- 
lation and  assumed  a  human  name;  in  vulgar  phrase,  what 
may  you  term  this  composition  for  which,  to  say  the  truth, 
I  do  not  feel  any  particular  desire?" 

"'Ah!  thus  it  is  that  our  material  origin  is  revealed," 
cried  Sinbad;  "  we  frequently  pass  so  near  to  happiness 
without  seeing,  without  regarding  it,  or  if  we  do  see  and  re- 
gard it,  yet  without  recognizing  it.  Are  you  a  man  for  the 
substantials  and  is  gold  your  god  ?  Taste  this  and  the  mines  of 
Peru,  Guzerat  and  Golconda  are  opened  to  you.  Are  you  a 
man  of  imagination — a  poet  ?  taste  this  and  the  boundaries  of 
possibility  disappear;  the  fields  of  infinite  space  open  to 
you,  you  advance  free  in  heart,  free  in  mind,  into  the 
boundless  realms  of  unfettered  reverie.  Are  you  ambitious, 
and  do  you  seek  after  the  greatness  of  the  earth?  taste  this, 
and  in  an  hour  you  will  be  a  king,  not  a  king  of  a  petty 
kingdom  hidden  in  some  corner  of  Europe  like  France, 
Spain  or  England,  but  king  of  the  world,  king  of  the  uni- 
verse, king  of  creation;  without  bowing  at  the  feet  of 
satan,  you  will  be  king  and  master  of  all  the  kingdoms  of 


THE  COUNT  OP  MONTE  CRISTO.  317 

the  earth.  Is  it  not  tempting  what  I  offer  you,  and  is  it 
not  an  easy  thing,  since  it  is  only  to  do  thus?  look!" 

At  these  words  he  uncovered  the  small  cup  which  con- 
tained the  substance  so  lauded,  took  a  teaspoonful  of  the 
magic  sweetmeat,  raised  it  to  his  lips  and  swallowed  it 
slowly,  with  his  eyes  half  shut  and  his  head  bent  back- 
ward. Franz  did  not  disturb  him  while  he  absorbed  his 
favorite  bonne  bouche,  but  when  he  finished,  he  inquired; 

"What,  then,  is  this  precious  stuff?" 

"  Did  you  ever  hear/'  he  replied,  "  of  the  Old  Man  of 
the  Mountain,  who  attempted  to  assassinate  Philippe 
Augustus?" 

"  Of  course,  I  have." 

"  Well,  you  know  he  reigned  over  a  rich  valley,  which 
was  overhung  by  the  mountain  whence  he  derived  his 
picturesque  name.  In  this  valley  were  magnificent  gardens 
planted  by  Hassen-ben-Sabah,  and  in  these  gardens 
isolated  pavilions.  Into  these  pavilions  he  admitted  the 
elect;  and  there,  says  Marco  Polo,  gave  them  to  eat  a  cer- 
tain herb,  which  transported  them  to  paradise,  in  the 
midst  of  ever-blooming  shrubs,  ever-ripe  fruit  and  ever- 
lovely  virgins.  But  what  these  happy  persons  took  for 
reality  was  but  a  dream;  but  it  was  a  dream  so  soft,  so 
voluptuous,  so  enthralling,  that  they  sold  themselves  body 
and  soul  to  him  who  gave  it  to  them;  and  obedient  to  his 
orders  as  those  of  a  deity,  struck  down  the  marked  victim, 
died  in  torture  without  a  murmur  ;  believing  that  the 
death  they  underwent  was  but  a  quick  transition  to  that 
life  of  delights  of  which  the  holy  herb,  now  before  you,  had 
given  them  a  slight  foretaste." 

"  Then,"  cried  Franz,  "it  is  hatchis !  T  know  that — by 
name  at  least." 

"That.is  it  precisely,  Signor  Aladdin;  it  is  hatchis— the 
purest  and  most  unadulterated  hatchis  of  Alexandria  -the 
hatchis  of  Abou-Gor,  the  celebrated  maker,  the  only 
man,  the  man  to  whom  there  should  be  built  a  palace, 
inscribed  with  these  words:  '  A  grateful  world  to  the  dealer 
in  happiness.'" 

"  Do  you  know,"  said  Franz,  "  I  have  a  very  great  in- 
clination to  judge  for  myself  of  the  truth  or  exaggeration 
of  your  eulogies." 

"  Judge  for  yourself,  Signor  Aladdin — judge,  but  do  not 
confine  yourself  to  one  trial.  Like  everything  else  we  must 


318  THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRI8TO. 

habituate  the  senses  to  afresh  impression,  gentle  or  violent, 
sad  or  joyons.  There  is  a  struggle  in  nature  against  this 
divine  substance — in  nature  which  is  not  made  for  joy  and 
clings  to  pain.  Nature  subdued  must  yield  in  the  combat, 
the  dream  must  succeed  to  reality,  and  then  the  dream 
reign  supreme,  then  the  dream  'becomes  nfe,  and  life 
becomes  the  dream.  But  what  changes  occur!  It  is 
only  by  comparing  the  pains  of  actual  being  with  the 
joys  of  the  assumed  existence,  that  you  would  desire  to  live 
no  longer,  but  to  dream  thus  for  ever.  When  you  return 
to  this  mundane  sphere  from  your  visionary  world,  you 
would  seem  to  leave  a  Neapolitan  spring  for  a  Lapland 
winter — to  quit  paradise  for  earth  —  heaven  for  hell ! 
Taste  the  hatchis,  guest  of  mine — taste  the  hatchis." 

Franz's  only  reply  was  to  take  a  teaspoonful  of  the  mar- 
velous preparation,  about  as  much  in  quantity  as  his  host 
had  eaten,  and  lift  it  to  his  mouth. 

"  DiaUe!"  he  said,  after  having  swallowed  the  divine 
preserva  "  I  do  not  know  if  the  result  will  be  as  agree- 
able as  you  describe,  but  the  thing  does  not  appear  to  me 
as  succulent  as  you  say." 

"Because  your  palate  has  not  yet  attained  the  sublimity 
of  the  substances  it  flavors.  Tell  me,  the  first  time  you 
tasted  oysters,  tea,  porter,  truffles  and  sundry  other  dainties 
which  you  now  adore,  did  you  like  them  ?  Could  you 
comprehend  how  the  Romans  stuffed  their  pheasants  with 
assafoatida,  and  the  Chinese  eat  swallow's  nests  ?  Eh  !  no  ! 
Well,  it  is  the  same  with  hatchis;  only  eat  for  a  week,  and 
nothing  in  the  world  will  seem  to  you  to  equal  the  delicacy 
of  its  flavor,  which  now  appears  to  you  sleepy  and  distaste- 
ful. Let  us  now  go  into  the  chamber  beside  you,  which  is 
your  apartment,  and  Ali  will  bring  us  coffee  and  pipes." 
They  both  arose,  and  while  he  who  called  himself.  Sinbad — 
and  whom  we  have  occasionally  named  so,  that  we 
might,  like  his  guest,  have  some  title  by  which  to  dis- 
tinguish him — gave  some  orders  to  the  servant,  Franz  en- 
tered the  adjoining  apartment.  It  was  simply  yet  richly 
furnished.  It  was  round,  and  a  large  divan  completely 
encircled  it.  Divan,  walls,  ceiling,  floor  were  all  covered 
with  magnificent  skins  as  soft  and  downy  as  the  richest 
carpets;  there  were  skins  of  the  lions  of  Atlas,  with  their 
large  manes,  skins  of  the  Bengal  tigers,  with  their  striped 
hides;  skins  of  the  panthers  of  the  Cape,  spotted  beauti- 


THE  CO  TINT  OF  MONTE  ORT8TO.  319 

fully,  like  those  that  appeared  to  Dante;  skins  of  the 
bears  of  Siberia,  the  foxes  of  Norway,  etc. ;  and  all  these 
skins  were  strewn  in  profusion  one  on  the  other,  so  that  it 
seemed  like  walking  over  the  most  mossy  turf,  or  reclining 
on  the  most  luxurious  bed.  Both  laid  themselves  down  on 
the  divan ;  chibouques  with  jasmine  tubes  and  amber 
mouth-pieces  were  within  reach,  and  all  prepared  so  that 
there  was  no  need  to  smoke  the  same  pipe  twice.  Each  of 
them  took  one,  which  Ali  lighted,  and  then  retired  to  pre- 
pare the  coffee.  There  was  a  moment's  silence,  during 
which  Sinbad  gave  himself  up  to  thoughts  that  seemed  to 
occupy  him  incessantly,  even  in  the  midst  of  his  conversa- 
tion; and  Franz  abandoned  himself  to  that  mute  reverie, 
into  which  we  always  sink  when  smoking  excellent  tobacco, 
which  seems  to  remove  with  its  fume  all  the  troubles  of  the 
mind,  and  to  give  the  smoker  in  exchange  all  the  visions 
of  the  soul.  Ali  brought  in  the  coffee. 

"  How  do  you  take  it  ?"  inquired  the  unknown;  "  a  la 
Franpaise  or  a  la  Turque,  strong  or  weak,  sugar  or  none, 
cool  or  boiling  ?  As  you  please;  it  is  ready  in  all  ways." 

"  I  will  take  it  a  la  Turque,"  replied  Franz. 

"  And  you  are  right/'  said  his  host;  "  it  shows  you  have 
a  tendency  for  an  Oriental  life.  Ah  !  those  Orientals;  they 
are  the  only  men  who  know  how  to  live.  As  for  me,"  he 
added,  with  one  of  those  singular  smiles  which  did  not 
escape  the  young  man,  "  when  I  have  completed  my  affairs 
in  Paris,  I  shall  go  and  die  in  the  east;  and  should  you 
wish  to  see  me  again,  you  must  seek  me  at  Cairo,  Bagdad 
or  Ispahan." 

"  Ma  foi  /"  said  Franz,  "  it  would  be  the  easiest  thing 
in  the  world;  for  I  feel  eagle's  wings  springing  out  at  my 
shoulders,  and  with  these  wings  I  could  make  a  tour  of  the 
world  in  four-and- twenty  hours." 

"  Ah  !  ah  !  it  is  the  hatchis  that  is  operating.  Well, 
unfurl  your  wings  and  fly  into  superhuman  regions  ;  fear 
nothing,  there  is  a  watch  over  you;  and  if  your  wings,  like 
those  of  Icarus,  melt  before  the  sun,  we  are  here  to  receive 
you." 

He  then  said  some  Arabian  words  to  Ali,  who  made  a 
sign  of  obedience  and  withdrew,  but  not  to  any  distance. 
As  for  Franz,  a  strange  transformation  had  taken  place  in 
him.  All  the  bodily  fatigue  of  the  day,  all  the  pre- 
occupation of  mind  which  the  events  of  the  evening  had 


320  THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  GRI8TO. 

brought  on,  disappeared,  as  they  would  at  that  first  feeling 
of  sleep,  when  we  are  still  sufficiently  conscious  to  be  aware 
of  the  coming  of  slumber.  Bis  body  seemed  to  acquire  an 
airy  lightness,  his  perception  brightened  in  a  remarkable 
manner,  his  senses  seemed  to  redouble  their  power,  the 
horizon  continued  to  expand;  bnt  it  was  not  that  gloomy 
horizon  over  which  a  vague  alarm  prevails,  and  which  he 
had  seen  before  he  slept ;  but  a  blue,  transparent,  un- 
bounded horizon,  with  all  the  blue  of  the  ocean,  all  the 
spangles  of  the  sun,  all  the  perfumes  of  the  summer  breeze; 
then,  in  the  midst  of  the  songs  of  his  sailors — songs  so  clear 
and  sounding  that  they  would  have  made  a  divine  harmony 
had  their  notes  been  taken  down — he  saw  the  Isle  of  Monte 
Cristo,  no  longer  as  a  threatening  rock  in  the  midst  of  the 
waves,  but  as  an  oasis  lost  in  the  desert;  then,  as  the  bark 
approached,  the  songs  became  louder,  for  an  enchanting 
and  mysterious  harmony  arose  to  heaven  from  this  island, 
as  if  some  fay-like  Loreley,  or  some  enchanter  like  Am- 
phion  had  decreed  to  attract  thither  a  soul  or  build  there  a 
city. 

At  length  the  bark  touched  the  shore,  but  without  effort, 
without  shock,  as  lips  touch  lips  ;  and   he  entered  the 

g-otto  amid  continued  strains  of  most  delicious  melody, 
e  descended,  or  rather  seemed  to  descend,  several  steps, 
inspiring  the  fresh  and  balmy  air,  like  that  which  may  be 
supposed  to  reign  around  the  grotto  of  Circe,  formed  from 
such  perfumes  as  set  the  mind  a  dreaming,  and  such  fires 
as  burn  the  very  senses;  and  he  saw  again  all  he  had  seen 
before  his  sleep,  from  Sinbad,  his  singlar  host,  to  Ali,  the 
mute  attendant;  then  all  seemed  to  fade  away  and  become 
confused  before  his  eyes,  like  the  last  shadows  of  the  magic 
lantern  before  it  is  extinguished;  and  he  was  again  in  the 
chamber  of  statues,  lighted  only  by  one  of  those  pale  and 
antique  lamps  which  watch  in  the  dead  of  the  night  over 
the  sleep  of  pleasure.  They  were  the  same  statues,  rich  in 
form,  in  attraction  and  poesy,  with  eyes  of  fascination, 
smiles  of  love  and  "  bright  and  flowing  hair."  They  were 
Phryne,  Cleopatra,  Messalina,  those  three  celebrated 
courtesans.  Then  among  them  glided  like  a  pure  ray, 
like  a  Christian  angel  in  the  midst  of  Olympus,  one  of 
those  chaste  figures,  those  calm  shadows,  those  soft  visions 
which  seemed  to  veil  its  virgin  brow  before  these  marble 
wantons.  Then  these  three  statues  advanced  toward  him 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CBI8TO.  321 

with  looks  of  love  and  approached  the  couch  on  which  he  was 
reposing,  their  feet  hidden  in  their  long  tunics,  their  throats 
bare,  hair  flowing  like  waves  and  assuming  attitudes  which 
the  gods  could  not  resist,  but  which  saints  withstood,  and 
looks  inflexible  and  ardent  like  the  serpent's  on  the  bird; 
and  then  he  gave  way  before  these  looks  as  painful  as  a 
powerful  grasp  and  as  delightful  as  a  kiss.  It  seemed  to 
Franz  that  he  closed  his  eyes  and  thought  that  in  the  last 
look  he  gave  he  saw  the  modest  statue  completely  veiled; 
and  then  with  his  eyes  closed  upon  all  nature  his  senses 
awoke  to  impassable  impressions,  and  he  was  under  the 
painful  yet  delicious  enthrallment  produced  by  the  hatchis 
whose  enchantment  had  brought  up  this  marvelous  and 
thrilling  vision. 


CHAPTER  XXXIL 

THE  WAKING. 

WHEN  Franz  returned  to  himself  exterior  objects  seemed 
a  second  portion  of  his  dream.  He  thought  himself  in  a 
sepnlcher,  into  which  scarcely  penetrated  (and  then  like  a 
look  of  pity)  a  ray  of  the  sun.  He  stretched  forth  his 
hand  and  touched  stone;  he  rose  to  his  seat  and  found 
himself  lying  on  his  bournous  in  a  bed  of  dry  heather, 
very  soft  and  odoriferous.  The  vision  had  entirely  fled; 
and  as  if  the  statues  had  been  but  shadows  coming  from 
their  tomb  during  his  dream  they  vanished  at  his  waking. 
He  advanced  several  paces  toward  the  point  whence  the 
light  came,  and  to  all  the  excitement  of  his  dream  suc- 
ceeded the  calmness  of  reality.  He  found  that  he  was  in 
a  grotto;  went  toward  the  opening,  and  through  a  kind  of 
fanlight  saw  a  blue  sea  and  an  azure  sky.  The  air  and 
water  were  shining  in  the  beams  of  the  morning  sun;  on 
the  shore  the  sailors  were  sitting,  chatting  and  laughing; 
and  at  ten  yards  from  them  the  bark  was  at  anchor, 
undulating  gracefully  on  the  water.  There  for  some  time 
he  enjoyed  the  fresh  breeze  which  played  on  his  brow  and 
listened  to  the  dash  of  the  waves  on  the  beach,  leaving 
against  the  rocks  a  lace  of  foam  as  white  as  silver.  He 
was  for  some  time  without  reflection  or  thought  for  the 
divine  charm  which  is  in  the  things  of  nature,  especially 


322  THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO. 

after  a  fantastic  dream;  then  gradually  this  view  of  out- 
ward matters,  so  calm,  so  pure,  so  grand,  reminded  him  of 
the  illusiveness  of  a  dream  and  remembrance  became  busy 
again  in  his  memory.  He  recalled  his  arrival  on  the 
island,  his  presentation  to  a  smuggler  chief,  a  subter- 
ranean palace  full  of  splendor,  an  excellent  supper  and  a 
spoonful  of  hatchis.  It  seemed,  however,  even  in  the  very 
face  of  open  day  that  at  least  a  year  had  elapsed  since  all 
these  things  had  passed,  so  deep  was  the  impression  made 
in  his  mind  by  the  dream  and  so  strong  a  hold  had  it, 
taken  of  his  imagination.  Thus  every  now  and  then  his 
fancy  placed  amid  the  sailors,  seated  on  a  rock  or  saw  un- 
dulating in  the  vessel,  one  of  those  shadows  which  had 
shared  his  dreams  with  their  looks  and  their  kisses. 
Otherwise,  his  head  was  perfectly  clear  and  his  limbs  en- 
tirely reposed;  he  was  free  from  the  slightest  headache; 
on  the  contrary,  he  felt  a  certain  degree  of  lightness,  a 
faculty  of  absorbing  the  pure  air  and  enjoying  the  bright 
sunshine  more  vividly  than  ever. 

He  went  gayly  up  to  the  sailors,  who  rose  as  soon  as  they 
perceived  him,  and  the  patron,  accosting  him,  said: 

"  The  Signor  Sinbad  has  left  his  compliments  for  your 
excellency  and  desires  us  to  express  the  regret  he  feels  at 
not  being  able  to  take  his  leave  in  person;  but  he  trusts 
you  will  excuse  him  as  very  important  business  calls  him 
to  Malaga." 

"So,  then,  Gaetano,"  said  Franz,  this  is,  then,  all 
reality?  There  exists  a  man  who  has  received  me  in  this 
isle,  entertained  me  right  royally  and  has  departed  while 
I  was  asleep  ?" 

"  He  exists  as  certainly  as  that  you  may  see  his  small 
yacht  with  all  her  sails  spread;  and  if  you  will  use  your 
glass  you  will  in  all  probability  recognize  your  host  in  the 
midst  of  his  crew." 

So  saying,  Gaetano  pointed  in  a  direction  in  which  a 
small  vessel  was-  making  sail  toward  the  southern  point  of 
Corsica,  Franz  adjusted  his  telescope  and  directed  it  to- 
ward the  bark.  Gaetano  was  not  mistaken.  At  the  stern 
the  mysterious  stranger  was  standing  up,  looking  toward 
the  shore,  and  holding  a  spy-glass  in  his  hand.  He  was 
attired  as  he  had  been  on  the  previous  evening  and  waved 
his  pocket  handkerchief  to  his  guest  in  token  of  adieu. 
Franz  returned  the  salute  by  shaking  his  handkerchief  as 


THR  COUNT  OF  MONTE  GRI8TO.  323 

an  exchange  of  signals.  After  a  second  a  slight  cloud  of 
smoke  was  seen  at  the  stern  of  the  vessel,  which  rose  grace- 
fully as  it  expanded  in  the  "air  and  then  Franz  heard  a 
slight  report. 

"  There,  do  you  hear?"  observed  Gaetano;  "  he  his  bid- 
ding you  adieu?' 

The  young  man  took  his  carbine  and  fired  it  in  the  air, 
but  without  any  idea  that  the  noise  could  be  heard  at  the 
distance  which  separated  the  yacht  from  the  shore. 

"  What  are  your  excellency's  orders?"  inquired  Gaetano. 

"  In  the  first  place,  light  me  a  torch." 

"  Ah,  yes,  I  understand,"  replied  the  patron,  "to  find 
the  entrance  to  the  enchanted  apartment.  With  much 
pleasure,  your  excellency,  if  it  would  amuse  you,  and  I 
will  get  you  the  torch  you  ask  for.  But  I,  too,  have  had 
the  idea  you  have,  and  two  or  three  times  the  same  fancy 
has  come  over  me:  but  I  have  always  given  it  up.  Gio- 
vanni, light  a  torch,"  he  added,  "  and  give  it  to  his 
excellency." 

Giovanni  obeyed.  Franz  took  the  lamp  and  entered  the 
subterranean  grotto  followed  by  Gaetano.  He  recognized 
the  place  where  he  had  awoke  by  the  bed  of  heather  that 
was  there;  but  it  was  in  vain  that  he  carried  his  torch  all 
round  the  exterior  surface  of  the  grotto.  He  saw  nothing  un- 
less that  by  traces  of  smoke  others  had  before  him  attempted 
the  same  thing,  and,  like  him,  in  vain.  Yet  he  did  not 
leave  a  foot  of  this  granite  wdll,  as  impenetrable  as  futu- 
rity, without  strict  scrutiny;  he  did  not  see  a  fissure  with- 
out introducing  the  blade  of  his  hunting-sword  into  it,  nor 
a  projecting  point  on  which  he  did  not  lean  and  press  in 
the  hopes  it  would  give  way.  All  was  vain;  and  he  lost 
two  hours  in  his  attempts,  which  were  at  last  utterly  use- 
less. At  the  end  of  this  time  he  gave  up  his  research,  and 
Gaetano  smiled. 

When  Franz  appeared  again  on  the  shore  the  yacht  only 
seemed  like  a  small  white  speck  on  the  horizon.  He 
looked  again  through  his  glass,  but  even  then  he  could 
not  distinguish  anything.  Gaetano  reminded  him  that  he 
had  come  for  the  purpose  of  shooting  goats,  which  he  had 
utterly  forgotten.  He  took  his  fowling-piece  and  began 
to  hunt  over  the  isle  with  the  air  of  a  man  who  is  fulfill- 
ing a  duty  rather  than  enjoying  a  pleasure,  and  at  the  end 
of  a  quarter  of  an  hour  he  had  killed  a  goat  and  two  kids. 


324  THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRI8TO. 

These  animals,  though  wild  and  agile  as  chamois,  were  too 
much  like  domestic  goats,  and  Franz  could  not  consider 
them  as  game.  Moreover,  other  ideas,  much  more  power- 
ful, occupied  his  mind.  Since  the  evening  before  he  had 
really  been  the  hero  of  one  of  the  tales  of  the  "  Thousand 
and  One  Nights,"  and  he  was  irresistibly  attracted  toward 
the  grottoes.  Then,  in  spite  of  the  failure  of  his  first 
search,  he  began  a  second,  after  having  told  Gaetano  to 
roast  one  of  the  two  kids.  The  second  visit  was  a  long 
one,  and  when  he  returned  the  kid  was  roasted  and  the 
repast  ready.  Franz  was  sitting  on  the  spot  where  he  was 
on  the  previous  evening  when  his  mysterious  host  had 
invited  him  to  supper;  and  he  saw  the  little  yacht,  now 
like  a  sea-gull  on  the  wave,  continuing  her  flight  toward 
Corsica.  "  Why,"  he  remarked  to  Gaetano,  "  you  told  me 
that  Signor  Sinbad  was  going  to  Malaga,  while  it  seems  he 
is  in  the  direction  of  Porto  Vecchio." 

"  Don't  you  remember,"  said  the  patron,  "  I  told  you 
that  among  the  crew  there  were  two  Corsican  brigands?" 

"True  !  and  he  is  going  to  land  them,"  added 
Franz. 

"Precisely  so,"  replied  Gaetano.  "Ah!  he  is  an  indi- 
vidual who  fears  neither  God  nor  devil,  they  say,  and 
would  at  any  time  run  fifty  leagues  out  of  his  course  to  do 
a  poor  devil  a  service." 

"  But  such  services  as  these  might  involve  him  with  the 
authorities  of  the  country  ill  which  he  practices  this  kind 
of  philanthropy,"  said  Franz. 

"  And  what  cares  he  for  that,"  replied  Gaetano,  with  a 
laugh,  "or  any  authorities?  He  smiles  at  them.  Let 
them  try  to  pursue  him!  why,  in  the  first  place,  his  yacht 
is  not  a  ship,  but  a  bird,  and  he  would  beat  any  frigate 
three  knots  in  every  nine;  and  if  he  were  to  throw  himself 
on  the  coast,  why,  ain't  he  certain  of  finding  friends 
everywhere  ?" 

It  was  perfectly  clear  that  the  Signor  Sinbad,  Franz's 
host,  had  the  honor  of  being  on  excellent  terms  with  the 
smugglers  and  bandits  along  the  whole  coast  of  the  Medit- 
erranean, which  placed  him  in  a  position  singular  enough. 
As  to  Franz,  he  had  no  longer  any  inducement  to  remain 
at  Monte  Cristo.  He  had  lost  all  hope  of  detecting  the 
secret  of  the  grotto;  he  consequently  despatched  his  break- 
fast, and,  his  bark  being  ready,  he  hastened  on  board  and 


TEE  CO  UNT  OF  MONTE  GRISTO.  325 

they  were  soon  under  way.  At  the  moment  the  bark  began 
her  course  they  lost  sight  of  the  yacht,  as  it  disappeared  in 
the  Gulf  of  Porto  Vecchio.  With  it  was  effaced  the  last 
trace  of  the  preceding  night;  and  then  supper,  Sinbad, 
hatchis,  statues — all  became  a  dream  for  Franz.  The  bark 
went  on  all  day  and  all  night  and  the  next  morning,  when 
the  sun  rose,  they  had  lost  sight  of  Monte  Cristo.  When 
Franz  had  once  again  set  foot  on  shore  he  forgot,  for  the 
moment  at  least,  the  events  which  had  just  passed,  while 
he  finished  his  affairs  of  pleasure  at  Florence  and  then 
thought  of  nothing  but  how  lie  should  rejoin  his  compan- 
ion, who  was  awaiting  him  at  Rome. 

He  set  out  and  on  the  Saturday  evening  reached  the 
Place  de  la  Douane  by  the  malle-poste.  An  apartment,  as 
we  have  said,  had  been  retained  beforehand  and  thus  he 
had  but  to  go  to  the  hotel  of  Maitre  Pastrini.  But  this 
was  not  so  easy  a  matter,  for  the  streets  were  thronged  with 
people,  and  Rome  was  already  a  pray  to  that  low  and 
feverish  murmur  which  precedes  all  great  events;  and  at 
Rome  there  are  four  great  events  in  every  year — the  carni- 
val, the  holy  week,  the  fete  dieu  and  the  St.  Peter.  All  the 
rest  of  the  year  the  city  is  in  that  state  of  dull  apathy,  be- 
tween life  and  death,  wnich  renders  it  similar  to  a  kind  of 
station  between  this  world  and  the  next — a  sublime  spot,  a 
resting-place  full  of  poetry  and  character  and  at  which 
Franz  had  already  halted  five  or  six  times,  and  at  each 
time  found  it  more  marvelous  and  striking.  At  last  he 
made  his  way  through  this  mob,  which  was  continually  in- 
creasing and  more  agitated  and  reached  the  hotel.  On  his 
first  inquiry  he  was  told,  with  the  impertinence  peculiar  to 
hackney-coachman  who  are  hired,  and  innkeepers  with 
their  houses  full,  that  there  was  no  room  for  him  at  the 
Hdtel  de  Londres.  Then  he  sent  his  card  to  Maitre  Pas- 
trini and  demanded  Albert  de  Morcerf.  This  plan  suc- 
ceeded; and  Maitre  Pastrini  himself  ran  to  him,  excusing 
himself  for  having  made  his  excellency  wait,  scolding  the 
waiters,  taking  the  candlestick  in  his  hand  from  the 
cicerone,  who  was  ready  to  pounce  on  the  traveler,  and  was 
about  to  lead  him  to  Albert  when  Morcerf  himself  ap- 
peared. The  apartment  consisted  of  two  small  rooms  and 
a  closet.  The  two  rooms  looked  onto  the  street — a  fact 
which  Maitre  Pastrini  commented  upon  as  an  inapprecia- 
ble advantage.  The  remainder  of  the  story  was  hired  by 


326  THE  CO  UNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTQ. 

a  very  rich  gentleman,  who  was  supposed  to  be  a  Sicilian 
or  Maltese;  but  the  host  was  unable  to  decide  to  which  of 
the  two  nations  the  traveler  belonged.  "  Very  good, 
Maitre  Pastrini,"  paid  Franz;  "  but  we  must  have  some 
supper  instantly,  and  a  carriage  for  to-morrow  and  the  fol- 
lowing days." 

"As  to  supper,"  replied  the  landlord,  "you  shall  be 
served  immediately;  but,  as  for  the  carriage " 

"  What  as  to  the  carriage?"  exclaimed  Albert.  "  Come, 
come,  Maitre  Pastrini,  no  joking ;  we  must  have  a 
carriage." 

"  Sir,"  replied  the  host,  "  we  will  do  all  in  our  power  to 
procure  you  one — this  is  all  I  can  say." 

"And  when  shall  we  know?"  inquired  Franz. 

"  To-morrow  morning,"  answered  the  innkeeper. 

"  Oh,  the  devil!  then  we  shall  pay  the  more,  that's  all,  I 
see  plainly  enough.  At  Drake  &  Aaron's  one  pays  25 
francs  for  common  days  and  30  or  35  francs  a  day  more  for 
Sundays  and.  fetes;  add  5  francs  a  day  more  for  extras,  that 
will  make  40  and  there's  an  end  of  it." 

"I  am  afraid  if  we  offer  them  double  that  we  shall  not 
procure  a  carriage." 

"  Then  they  must  put  horses  to  mine.  It  is  a  little  worse 
for  the  journey,  but  that's  no  matter." 

"There  are  no  horses."  Albert  looked  at  Franz  like  a 
man  who  hears  a  reply  he  does  not  understand. 

"  Do  you  understand  that,  my  dear  Franz — no  horses?" 
he  said;  "but  can't  we  have  post-horses?" 

"They  have  all  been  hired  this  fortnight  and  there  are 
none  left  but  those  absolutely  requisite  for  posting." 

"  What  are  we  to  say  to  this?"  asked  Franz. 

"  I  say,  that  when  a  thing  completely  surpasses  my  com- 
prehension, I  am  accustomed  not  to  dwell  on  that 
thing,  but  to  pass  to  another.  Is  supper  ready,  Maitre 
Pastini?" 

"  Yes,  your  excellency." 

"Well,  then,  let  us  sup." 

"  But  the  carriage  and  horses?"  said  Franz. 

"Be  easy,  my  dear  boy;  they  will  come  in  due  season;  it 
is  only  a  question  of  how  much  shall  be  charged  for  them." 
Morcerf  then,  with  that  delighted  philosophy  which 
believes  that  nothing  is  impossible  to  a  full  purse  and  well- 
lined  pocketbook,  supped,  went  to  bed,  slept  soundly  and 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRI8TO.  327 

dreamed  he  was  racing  all  over  Rome  at  carnival  time  in  a 
coach  with  six  horses. 


CHAPTER  XXXIII. 

ROMAN   BANDITS. 

THE  next  -morning  Franz  woke  first  and  instantly  rang 
the  bell.  The  sound  had  not  yet  died  away  when  Maitre 
Pastrini  himself  entered. 

"Well,  excellency,"  said  the  landlord,  triumphantly, 
and  without  waiting  for  Franz  to  question  him,  "  I  feared 
yesterday,  when  I  would  not  promise  you  anything,  that 
you  were  too  late — there  is  not  a  single  carriage  to  be  had 
— that  is,  for  the  last  three  days." 

"  Yes,"  returned  Franz,  "that  is  for  the  very  three  days 
it  is  most  necessary." 

"  What  is  the  matter  ?"  said  Albert-,  entering;  "no  car- 
riage to  be  had  ?" 

"Just  so,"  returned  Franz,  "you  have  guessed  it." 

"  Well  !  your  Eternal  City  is  a  devilish  nice  city." 

"  That  is  to  say,  excellency,"  replied  Pastrini,  who  was 
desirous  to  keep  up  the  dignity  of  the  capital  of  the 
Christian  world  in  the  eyes  of  his  guest,  "that  there  are 
no  carriages  to  be  had  from  Sunday  to  Tuesday  evening,  but 
from  new  till  Sunday  you  can  have  fifty  if  you  please." 

"  Ah  !  that  is  something,"  said  Albert;  "  to-day  is 
Thursday,  and  who  knows  what  may  arrive  between  this 
and  Sunday  ?" 

"  Ten  to  twelve  thousand  travelers  will  arrive,"  replied 
Franz,  "  which  will  make  it  still  more  difficult." 

"  My  friend,"  said  Morcerf,  "let  us  enjoy  the  present 
without  gloomy  forebodings  for  the  fortune." 

"  At  least  we  can  have  a  window  ?" 

"  Where  ?" 

*'  Looking  on  the  Rue  du  Cours." 

"Ah,  a  window  !"  exclaimed  Maitre  Pastrini — "utterly 
impossible;  there  was  only  one  left  on  the  fifth  floor  of  the 
Doria  Palace,  and  that  has  been  let  to  a  Russian  prince 
for  20  sequins  a  day." 

The  two  young  men  looked  at  each  other  with  an  air  of 
stupefaction. 


328  THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO. 

"Well,"  said  Franz  to  Albert,  "do  you  know  what  is 
the  best  thing  we  can  do  ?  It  is  to  pass  the  carnival  at 
Venice:  there  we  are  sure  of  obtaining  gondolas  if  we  can- 
not have  carriages." 

"Ah  !  the  devil  !  no,"  cried  Albert;  "  I  came  to  Rome 
to  see  the  carnival,  and  I  will,  though  I  see  it  on  stilts.  " 

' '  Bravo  !  an  excellent  idea  !  We  will  disguise  ourselves 
as  monster  pulchinellos  or  shepherds  of  the  Landes,  and 
we  shall  have  complete  success." 

"  Do  your  excellencies  still  wish  for  a  carriage  from  now 
to  Sunday  morning  ?" 

"  Parlleu  '"  said  Albert,  "  do  you  think  we  are  going 
to  run  about  on  foot  in  the  streets  of  Home,  like  lawyers' 
clerks  ?" 

"  I  hasten  to  comply  with  your  excellencies'  wishes; 
only,  I  tell  you  beforehand,  the  carriage  will  cost  you  6 
piastres  a  day." 

"  And,  as  I  am  not  a  millionaire,  like  the  gentleman  in 
the  next  apartments,"  said  Franz,  "  I  warn  you,  that  as  I 
have  been  four  times  before  at  Rome,  I  know  the  prices  of 
all  the  carriages ;  we  will  give  you  12  piastres  for  to-day, 
to-morrow,  and  the  day  after,  and  then  you  will  make  a 
good  profit." 

"  But,  excellency "  said  Pastrini,  still  striving  to 

gain  his  point. 

"  Now  go,"  returned  Franz,  "  or  I  shall  go  myself  and 
bargain  with  you  afflitatore,  who  is  mine  also;  he  is  an  old 
friend  of  mine,  who  has  plundered  me  pretty  well  already, 
and,  in  the  hope  of  making  more  out  of  me,  he  will  take  a 
less  price  than  the  one  I  offer  you;  you  will  lose  the  pre- 
ference, and  that  will  be  your  fault." 

"  Do  not  give  yourselves  the  trouble,  excellency,"  re- 
turned Maitre  Pastrini,  with  that  smile  of  the  Italian 
speculator  who  avows  himself  defeated  ;  "  I  will  do  all  I 
can,  and  I  hope  you  will  be  satisfied." 

"  And  now  we  understand  each  other." 

"  When  do  you  wish  the  carriage  to  be  here  ?" 

"In  an  hour." 

"  In  an  hour  it  will  be  at  the  door." 

An  hour  after  the  vehicle  was  at  the  door;  it  was  a  hack 
conveyance  which  he  elevated  to  the  rank  of  a  private 
carriage  in  honor  of  the  occasion;  but,  in  spite  of  its 
humble  exterior,  the  young  men  would  have  thought 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CR18TO.  329 

themselves  happy  to  have  secured  it  for  the  last  three  days 
of  the  carnival.  "  Excellency/'  cried  the  cicerone,  seeing 
Franz  approach  the  window,  "shall  I  bring  the  carriage 
nearer  to  the  palace  ?" 

Accustomed  as  Franz  was  to  the  Italian  phraseology,  his 
first  impulse  was  to  look  round  him,  but  these  words  were 
addressed  to  him.  Franz  was  the  "excellency,  "the  vehicle 
was  the  "  carriage,"  and  the  H6tel  de  Londres  was  the 
"  palace." 

Franz  and  Albert  descended  ;  the  carriage  approached 
the  palace;  their  excellencies  stretched  their  legs  along 
the  seats;  the  cicerone  sprang  into  the  seat  behind. 
"  Where  do  your  excellencies  wish  to  go  ?"  asked  he. 

"To  St.  Peter's  first,  and  then  to  the  Colosseum/''  re- 
turned Albert.  But  Albert  did  not  know  that  it  takes  a 
day  to  see  St.  Peter's,  and  a  month  to  study  it.  The  day 
was  passed  at  St.  Peter's  alone.  Suddenly  the  daylight 
began  to  fade  away;  Franz  took  out  his  watch — it  was  4:30. 
They  returned  to  the  hotel;  at  the  door  Franz  ordered  the 
coachman  to  be  ready  at  8.  He  wished  to  show  Albert  the 
Colosseum  by  moonlight,  as  he  had  shown  him  St.  Peter's 
by  daylight.  When  we  show  a  friend  a  city  one  has  already 
visited,  we  feel  the  same  pride  as  when  we  point  out  a 
woman  whose  lover  we  have  been.  He  was  to  leave  the 
city  by  the  Porta  del  Popolo,  skirt  the  outer  wall,  and  re- 
enter  by  the  Porta  San  Giovanni;  thus  they  would  behold 
the  Colosseum  without  being  in  some  measure  prepared  by 
the  sight  of  the  Capitol,  the  Forum,  the  Arch  of  Septimus 
Serverus,  the  Temple  of  Antonius  and  Faustina,  and  the 
Via  Sacra.  They  sat  down  to  dinner.  Maitre  Pastrini 
had  promised  them  a  banquet;  he  gave  them  a  tolerable 
repast.  At  the  end  of  the  dinner  he  entered  in  person. 
Franz  concluded  he  came  to  hear  his  dinner  praised,  and 
began  accordingly,  but  at  the  first  words  he  interrupted 
him.  "Excellency,"  said  he,  "I  am  delighted  to  have 
your  approbation,  but  it  was  not  for  that  I  came." 

"Did  you  come  to  tell  us  you  have  procured  a  carriage?" 
asked  Albert,  lightning  his  cigar. 

"  No;  and  your  excellencies  will  do  well  not  to  think  of 
that  any  longer;  at  Rome  things  can  or  cannot  be  done; 
when  you  are  told  anything  cannot  be  done,  there  is.an 
end  of  it." 

"  it  is  much  more  convenient  at  Paris — when  anything 


330  THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRIPTO. 

cannot  be  done,   you  pay  double,   and   it  is    done    di- 
rectly." 

" That,  is  what  all  the  French  say,"  refcuvned  Maitre 
Pastrini,  somewhat  piqued;  "  for  that  reason,  I  do  not  un- 
derstand why  they  travel." 

"  But,"  said  Albert,  emitting  a  volume  of  smoke  and 
balancing  his  chair  on  its  hind  legs,  "only  madmen,  or 
blockheads,  like  we  are,  travel.  Men  in  their  senses  do 
not  quit  their  hotel  in  the  Rue  du  Helder,  their  walk  on 
the  Boulevard  de  Gand,  and  the  Cafe  de  Paris.  It  is  of 
course  understood  that  Albert  resided  in  the  aforesaid  rue, 
appeared  every  day  on  the  fashionable  walk,  and  dined 
frequently  at  the  only  cafe  where  you  can  really  dine,  that 
is,  if  you  are  on  good  terms  with  its  frequenters.  Maitre 
Pastrini  remined  silent  a  short  time;  it  was  evident  that 
he  was  musing  over  this  answer,  which  did  not  seem  very 
clear.  "But,"  said  Franz,  in  his  turn  interrupting  his 
host's  meditations,  "you  had  some  motive  for  coming  here, 
may  I  beg  to  know  what  it  was  ?" 

"Ah,  yes  ;  have  ordered  your  carriage  at  8  o'clock  pre 
ciselv?" 

"  I  have." 

"  You  intend  visiting  77  Colosseo." 

"  You  mean  the  Colosseum  ?" 

"  It  is  the  same  thing.  You  have  told  your  coachman 
to  leave  the  city  by  the  Porta  del  Popolo,  to  drive  round 
the  walls,  and  re-enter  by  the  Porta  San  Giovanni?" 

"  These  are  my  words  exactly." 

"Well,  the  route *is  impossible." 

"  Impossible !" 

"  Very  dangerous,  to  say  the  least." 

"Dangerous!  and  why?" 

"  On  account  of  the  famous  Luigi  Vampa." 

"  Pray,  who  may  this  famous  Luigi  Vampa  be?"  inquired 
Albert;  "  he  may  be  very  famous  at  Eonie,  but  I  can  assure 
you  he  is  quite  unknown  at  Paris." 

"  What?  do  you  not  know  him?" 

"I  have  not  that  honor." 

"  You  have  never  heard  his  name?" 

"  Never." 

"Well,  then,  he  is  a  bandit,  compared  to  whom  the 
Decesaries  and  the  Gasparones  were  mere  children." 

"  Now  then,  Albert,"  cried  Franz,  "  here  is  a  bandit  for 
you  at  last." 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTR  CRISTO.  331 

"I  foreworn  you,  Maitre  Pastrini,  that  I  shall  not 
believe  one  word  of  what  you  are  going  to  tell  us;  having 
told  you  this,  begin." 

"  Once  upon  a  time " 

"Well,  go  on." 

Maitre  Pastrini  turned  round  to  Franz,  who  seemed  to 
him  the  more  reasonable  of  the  two;  we  must  do  him  jus- 
tice— he  had  had  a  great  many  Frenchmen  in  his  house, 
but  had  never  been  able  to  comprehend  them. 

"  Excellency,"  said  he,  gravely  addressing  Franz,  "  if 
you  look  upon  me  as  a  liar,  it  is  useless  for  me  to  say  any- 
thing; it  was  for  your  interest  I " 

"  Albert  does  not  say  you  are  a  liar,  Maitre  Pastriui," 
said  Franz,  "  but  that  he  will  not  believe  what  you  are 
going  to  tell  us — but  I  will  believe  all  you  say;  so 
proceed." 

"  But  if  your  excellency  doubt  my  veracity " 

"  Maitre  Pastrini,"  returned  Franz,  "  you  are  more  sus- 
ceptible than  Cassandre,  who  was  a  prophetess,  and  yet  no 
one  believed  her;  while  you,  at  least,  are  sure  of  the 
credence  of  half  your  auditory.  Come,  sit  down,  and  tell 
us  all  about  M.  vampa." 

"  I  had  told  your  excellency  he  is  the  most  famous  bandit 
we  have  had  since  the  days  of  Mastrilla." 

( '  Well,  what  has  this  bandit  to  do  with  the  order  I  have 
given  the  coachman  to  leave  the  city  by  the  Porta  del 
Popolo,  and  to  re-enter  by  the  Porta  San  Giovanni?" 

"This,"  replied  Maitre  Pastrini,  "  that  you  will  go  out 
by  one,  but  I  very  much  doubt  your  returning  by  the 
other." 

"Why?"  asked  Franz. 

"  Because,  after  nightfall,  you  are  not  safe  fifty  yards 
from  the  gates." 

"  On  you  honor,  is  that  true?"  cried  Albert. 

"M.  le  Comte,"  returned  Maitre  Pastrini,  hurt  at 
Albert's  repeated  doubts  of  the  truth  of  his  assertions,  "  I 
do  not  say  this  to  you,  but  to  your  companion,  who  knows 
Rome,  and  knows,  too,  that  these  things  are  not  to  be 
laughed  at." 

"  My  dear  fellow,"  said  Albert,  turning  to  Franz,  "  here 
is  an  admirable  adventure;  we  will  fill  our  carriage  with 
pistols,  blunderbuses  and  double-barreled  guns.  Luigi 
Vampa  comes  to  take  us  and  we  take  him — we  bring  him 


332  THE  CO  UNT  OF  MONTE  CRI8TO. 

back  to  Rome  and  present  him  to  his  holiness,  the  pope, 
who  asks  how  he  can  repay  so  great  a  service;  then  we 
merely  ask  for  a  carriage  and  a  pair  of  horses  and  we  see 
the  carnival  in  the  carriage,  and  doubtless  the  Roman 
people  will  crown  us  at  the  capitol,  and  proclaim  us,  like 
Curtius  and  Horatius  Codes,  the  preservers  of  the 
country." 

While  Albert  proposed  this  scheme,  Maitre  Pastrini's 
face  assumed  an  expression  impossible  to  describe. 

"And  pray,"  asked  Franz,  "where  are  these  pistols, 
blunderbuses  and  other  deadly  weapons  with  which  you 
intend  rilling  the  carriage?" 

"  Not  out  of  my  armory,  for  at  Terracina  I  was  plun- 
dered even  of  my  hunting-knife." 

"  I  shared  the  same  fate  at  Aquependente." 

"  Do  you  know,  Maitre  Pastnni,"  said  Albert,  lighting 
a  second  cigar  at  the  first,  "that  this  practice  is  very  con- 
venient for  robbers,  and  that  it  seems  to  have  been  an 
arrangement  between  them." 

Doubtless  Maitre  Pastrini  found  this  pleasantry  compro- 
mising, for  he  only  answered  half  the  question,  and  then 
he  spoke  to  Franz,  as  the  only  one  likely  to  listen  with 
attention. 

"Your  excellency  knows  that  it  is  not  customary  to 
defend  yourself  when  attacked  by  bandits." 

"  What?"  cried  Albert,  whose  courage  revolted  at  the 
idea  of  being  plundered  tamely,  "not  to  make  any 
resistance!" 

"  No,  for  it  would  be  useless.  What  could  you  do  against 
a  dozen  bandits  who  spring  out  of  some  pit,  ruin  or  aque- 
duct, and  level  their  pieces  at  you?" 

"Eh,  parbleu /—they  should  kill  me." 

The  innkeeper  turned  to  Franz  with  an  air  that  seemed 
to  say,  "Your  friend  is  decidedly  mad." 

"My  dear  Albert,"  returned  Franz,  "your  answer  is 
sublime,  and  worthy  the  'Let  him  die,'  of  Corneille,  only, 
when  Horace  made  that  answer  the  safety  of  Rome  was  con- 
cerned; but,  as  for  us,  it  is  only  to  gratify  a  whim,  and  it 
would  be  ridiculous  to  risk  our  lives  for  so  foolish  a 
motive." 

Albert  poured  himself  out  a  glass  of  lacryma  Christi. 
which  he  sipped  at  intervals,  muttering  some  unintelligible 
words. 


THIS  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRI8TO.  333 

"  Well,  Maitre  Pastrini,"  said  Franz,  "  now  that  my  com- 
panion is  quieted,  and  you  have  seen  how  peaceful  my  inten- 
tions are,  tell  me  who  is  this  Luigi  Vampa.  Is  he  a 
shepherd  or  a  nobleman — young  or  old — tall  or  short? 
Describe  him,  in  order  that,  if  we  meet  him  by  chance, 
like  Jean  Spogar  or  Lara,  we  may  recognize  him." 

"  You  could  not  apply  to  any  one  better  able  to  inform  you 
on  all  these  points  for  I  knew  him  when  he  was  a  child, 
and  one  day  that  I  fell  into  his  hands  going  from  Feren- 
tino  to  Alartri,  he,  fortunately  for  me,  recollected  me  and 
set  me  free,  not  only  without  ransom,  but  made  me  a  present 
of  a  very  splendid  watch,  and  related  his  history  to  me." 

"  Let  us  see  the  watch,"  said  Albert. 

Maitre  Pastrini  drew  from  his  fob  a  magnificent  Breguet, 
bearing  the  name  of  its  maker,  of  Parisian  manufacture, 
and  a  count's  coronet. 

"  Here  it  is,"  said  he. 

" Peste!  returned  Albert,  "I  compliment  you  on  it;  I 
have  its  fellow" — he  took  his  watch  from  his  waistcoat 
pocket—  "and  it  cost  me  3,000  francs  (£120)." 

"  Let  us  hear  the  history,"  said  Franz,  motioning  Maitre 
Pastrini  to  seat  himself. 

"  You  excellencies  permit  it?"  asked  the  host. 

"  Pardieu!"  cried  Albert,  "you  are  not  a  preacher  to 
remain  standing." 

The  host  sat  down,  after  having  made  each  of  them  a  re- 
spectful bow,  which  meant  to  say  he  was  ready  to  tell  them 
all  they  wish  to  know  concerning  Luigi  Vampa. 

"  You  tell  me,"  said  Franz,  at  the  moment  Maitre 
Pastrini  was  about  to  open  his  mouth,  "  that  you  knew 
Luigi  Vampa  when  he  was  a  child — he  is  still  a  young 
man,  then?" 

"A  young  man!  he  is  only  22 — he  will  gain  himself  a 
reputation." 

"  What  do  you  think  of  that  Albert-at  22  to  be  thus 
famous?" 

"  Yes,  and  at  his  age,  Alexander,  Caesar  and  Napoleon, 
who  have  all  made  some  noise  in  the  world,  were  not  so 
advanced." 

"  So,"  continued  Franz,  the  hero  of  this  history  is 
only  22?" 

"  Scarcely  so  much." 

"  Is  he  tall  or  short?" 

IU -MAS— Vol..    I.— 15 


334  THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO. 

"  Of  the  middle  height — about  the  same  stature  as  his 
excellency,"  returned  the  host,  pointing  to  Albert. 

"  Thanks  for  the  comparison,"  said  Albert,  with  a  bow. 

"  Go  on,  Maitre  Pastrini,"  continued  Franz,  smiling  at 
his  friend's  susceptibility.  "  To  what  class  of  society  does 
he  belong?" 

"He  was  a  shepherd-boy  attached  to  the  farm  of  the 
Comte  de  San-Felice,  situated  between  Palestrina  and  the 
lake  of  Gabri ;  he  was  born  at  Pampinara,  and  entered  the 
count's  service  when  he  was  five  years  old  ;  his  father  was 
also  a  shepherd,  who  owned  a  small  flock,  and  lived  by  the 
wool  and  the  milk,  which  he  sold  at  Rome.  When  quite  a 
child,  the  little  Vampa  was  of  a  most  extraordinary  dis- 
position. One  day,  when  he  was  seven  years  old,  he  came 
to  the  cure  of  Palestrina,  and  prayed  him  to  teach  him  to 
read  ;  it  was  somewhat  difficult,  for  he  could  not  quit  his 
flock  ;  but  the  good  cure  went  every  day  to  say  mass  at  a 
little  hamlet  too  poor  to  pay  a  priest,  and  which,  having 
no  other  name,  was  called  Borgo  ;  he  told  Luigi  that  he 
might  meet  him  on  his  return,  and  that  then  he  would 
give  him  a  lesson,  warning  him  that  it  would  be  short,  and 
that  he  must  profit  as  much  as  possible  by  it.  The  child 
accepted  joyfully.  Every  day  Luigi  led  his  flock  to  graze 
on  the  road  that  leads  from  Palestrina  to  Borgo ;  every 
day,  at  nine  o'clock  in  the  morning,  the  priest  and  the  boy 
sat  down  on  a  bank  by  the  wayside,  and  the  little  shepherd 
took  his  lesson  out  of  the  priest's  breviary.  At  the  end  of 
three  months  he  had  learned  to  read.  This  was  not  enough 
— he  must  now  learn  to  write.  The  priest  had  made,  by  a 
teacher  of  writing  at  Rome,  three  alphabets — one  large,  one 
middling,  and  one  small ;  and  pointed  out  to  him  that  by 
the  help  of  a  sharp  instrument  he  could  trace  the  letters 
on  a  slate,  and  thus  learn  to  write.  The  same  evening, 
when  the  flock  was  safe  at  the  farm,  the  little  Luigi 
hastened  to  the  smith  at  Palestrina,  took  a  large  nail, 
forged  it,  sharpened  it,  and  formed  a  sort  of  style.  The 
next  morning  he  had  collected  a  quantity  of  slates  and 
commenced.  -  At  the  end  of  three  months  he  had  learned 
to  write.  The  cure,  astonished  at  his  quickness  and  in- 
telligence, made  him  a  present  of  paper,  pens,  and  a  pen- 
knife. This  was  a  fresh  labor,  but  nothing  compared  to 
the  first ;  at  the  end  of  a  week  he  wrote  as  well  with  the 
pen  as  with  the  style  The  cure  related  this  anecdote  to 


TUB  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO.  335 

the  Comte  de  San-Felice,  who  sent  for  the  little  shepherd, 
made  him  read  and  write  before  him,  ordered  his  attendant 
to  let  him  eat  with  the  domestics,  and  to  give  him  two 
piastres  a  month.  With  this,  Luigi  purchased  books  and 
pencils.  He  applied  to  everything  his  imitative  powers, 
and,  like  Giotto,  when  young,  he  drew  on  his  slate  sheep, 
houses,  and  trees.  Then,  with  his  knife,  he  began  to  carve 
all  sorts  of  objects  in  wood ;  it  was  thus  that  Pinelli,  the 
famous  sculptor,  had  commenced. 

"A  girl  of  six  or  seven — that  is,  a  little  younger  than 
Vampa — tended  sheep  on  a  farm  near  Palestriua  ;  she  was 
an  orphan,  born  at  Valmontone,  and  was  named  Teresa. 
The  two  children  met,  sat  down  near  each  other,  let  their 
flocks  mingle  together,  played,  laughed,  and  conversed  to- 
gether ;  in  the  evening  they  separated  the  flock  of  the 
Cointe  de  San-Felice  from  those  of  the  Baron  de  Cervetri, 
and  the  children  returned  to  their  respective  farms,  prom- 
ising to  meet  the  next  morning.  The  next  day  they  kept 
their  word,  and  thus  grew  up.  Vampa  was  12,  and 
Teresa  11.  And  yet  their  natural  disposition  revealed 
itself.  Besides  his  tastes  for  the  fine  arts,  which  Luigi 
had  carried  as  far  as  he  could  in  his  solititude,  he  was  sad 
by  fits,  ardent  by  starts,  angry  by  caprice,  and  always  sar- 
castic. None  of  the  lads  of  Pampinara,  of  Palestrina,  or 
of  Valmoutone  had  been  able  to  gain  any  influence  over 
him,  or  even  to  become  his  companion.  His  disposition 
(always  inclined  to  exact  concessions  rather  than  to  make 
them)  kept  him  aloof  from  all  friendships.  Teresa  alone 
ruled  by  a  look,  a  word,  a  gesture,  this  impetuous  char- 
acter, which  yielded  beneath  the  hand  of  a  woman,  and 
which  beneath  the  hand  of  a  man  might  have  broken,  but 
could  never  have  bent  or  yielded.  Teresa  was,  on  the  con- 
trary, lively  and  gay,  but  coquettish  to  excess.  The  two 
piastres  that  Luigi  received  every  month  from  the  Comte 
de  San-Felice's  steward,  and  the  price  of  all  the  little 
carvings  in  wood  he  sold  at  Rome,  were  expended  in  ear- 
rings, necklaces,  and  gold  hair-pins.  So  that,  thanks  to 
her  friend's  generosity,  Teresa  was  the  most  beautiful  and 
the  best-attired  peasant  near  Rome.  The  two  children 
grew  up  together,  passing  all  their  time  with  each  other, 
and  giving  themselves  up  to  the  wild  ideas  of  their  different 
characters.  Thus,  in  all  their  dreamg,  their  wishes,  and 
their  conversations,  Vampa  saw  himself  the  captain  of  a 


336  TUB  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRI8TO. 

vessel,  general  of  an  army,  or  governor  of  a  province. 
Teresa  saw  herself  rich,  superbly  attired,  and  attended  by 
a  train  of  liveried  domestics.  Then,  when  they  had  thus 
passed  the  day  in  building  castles  in  the  air,  they  separated 
their  flocks,  and  descended  from  the  elevation  of  their 
dreams  to  the  reality  of  their  humble  position. 

"One  day  the  young  shepherd  told  the  count's  steward 
he  had  seen  a  wolf  come  out  of  the  Sabine  mountains,  and 
prowl  around  his  flock.  The  steward  gave  him  a  gun;  this 
was  what  Vampa  longed  for.  This  gun  had  an  excellent 
barrel,  made  at  Breschia,  and  carrying  a  ball  with  the  pre- 
cision of  an  English  rifle ;  but  one  day  the  count  broke  the 
stock,  and  had  then  cast  the  gun  aside.  This,  however, 
was  nothing  to  a  sculptor  like  Vampa ;  he  examined  the 
ancient  stock,  calculated  what  change  it  would  require  to 
adapt  the  gun  to  his  shoulder,  and  made  a  fresh  stock,  so 
beautifully  carved  that  it  would  have  fetched  15  or  20 
piasters,  had  he  chosen  to  sell  it.  But  nothing  could  be 
farther  from  his  thoughts.  For  a  long  time  a  gun  had 
been  the  young  man's  greatest  ambition.  In  every  country 
where  independence  has  taken  the  place  of  liberty,  the 
first  desire  of  a  manly  heart  is  to  possess  a  weapon,  which 
at  once  renders  him  capable  of  offense  or  attack,  and,  by 
rendering  its  owner  terrible,  makes  him  often  redoubted. 
From  this  moment  Vampa  devoted  all  his  leisure  time  to 
perfecting  himself  in  the  use  of  this  precious  weapon  ;  he 
purchased  powder  and  ball,  and  everything  served  him  for 
a  mark — the  trunk  of  some  old  and  moss-grown  olive  tree, 
that  grew  on  the  Sabine  mountains ;  the  fox,  as  he  quitted 
his  earth  on  some  marauding  excursion  ;  the  eagle  that 
soared  above  their  heads  ;  and  thus  he  soon  became  so  ex- 
pert, that  Teresa  overcame  the  terror  she  at  first  felt  at  the 
report,  and  amused  herself  by  watching  him  direct  the  ball 
wherever  he  pleased,  with  as  much  accuracy  as  if  placed 
by  the  hand. 

"  One  evening  a  wolf  emerged  from  a  pine-wood  near 
which  they  were  usually  stationed,  but  the  wolf  had 
scarcely  advanced  ten  yards  ere  he  was  dead.  Proud  of 
this  exploit,  Vampa  took  the  dead  animal  on  his  shoulders, 
and  carried  him  to  the  farm.  All  these  circumstances  had 
gained  Luigi  considerable  reputation.  The  man  of  superior 
abilities  always  finds  admirers,  go  where  he  will.  He  was 
spoken  of  as  the  most  adroit,  the  strongest,  and  the  most 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CR18TO.  337 

courageous  contadino  for  ten  leagues  round  ;  and 
although  Teresa  was  universally  allowed  to  be  the  most 
beautiful  girl  of  the  Sabines,  no  one  had  ever  spoken 
to  her  of  love,  because  it  was  known  that  she  was  beloved 
by  Vampa.  And  yet  the  two  young  people  had  never 
declared  their  affection;  they  had  grown  together  like  two 
trees  whose  roots  are  mingled,  whose  branches  intertwine, 
and  whose  perfume  rises  together  to  the  heavens.  Only 
their  wish  to  see  each  other  had  become  a  necessity,  and 
they  would  have  preferred  death  to  a  day's  separation. 
Teresa  was  16  and  Vampa  18.  About  this  time  a  band  of 
brigands  that  had  established  itself  in  the  Lepini  moun- 
tains began  to  be  much  spoken  of.  The  brigands  have 
never  been  really  extirpated  from  the  neighborhood  of 
Rome.  Sometimes  a  chief  is  wanted,  but  when  a  chief 
presents  himself  he  rarely  wants  a  band. 

"  The  celebrated  Cucumetto,  pursued  in  the  Abruzzo, 
driven  out  of  the  kingdom  of  Naples,  where  he  had  carried 
on  a  regular  war,  had  crossed  the  Garigliano,  like  Manfred, 
and  had  come  between  Sonnino  and  Juperno,  to  take 
refuge  on  the  banks  of  the  Amasine.  He  it  was  who 
strove  to  reorganize  a  band,  and  who  followed  the  foot- 
steps of  Decesaris  and  Gasperone,  whom  he  hoped  to  sur- 
pass. Many  young  men  of  Palestrina,  Frascati  and  Pam- 
pinara  disappeared.  Their  disappearance  at  first  caused 
much  inquietude,  but  it  was  soon  known  that  they  had 
joined  the  band  of  Cucumetto.  After  some  time  Cucu- 
metto became  the  object  of  universal  attention;  the  most 
extraordinary  traits  of  ferocious  daring  and  brutality  were 
related  of  him.  One  day  he  carried  off  a  young  girl,  the 
the  daughter  of  a  surveyor  of  Frosinone.  The  bandit's 
laws  are  positive;  a  young  girl  belongs  first  to  him  who 
carries  her  off,  then  the  rest  draw  lots  for  her,  and  she  ia 
abandoned  to  their  brutality  until  death  relieves  her  suffer- 
ings. When  their  parents  are  sufficiently  rich  to  pay  a 
ransom,  a  messenger  is  sent  to  treat  concerning  it;  the 
prisoner  is  hostage  for  the"  security  of  the  messenger; 
should  the  ransom  be  refused,  the  prisoner  is  irrevocably 
lost.  The  young  girl's  lover  was  in  Cucumetto's  troop;  his 
name  was  Garlini.  When  she  recognized  her  lover  the 
poor  girl  extended  her  arms  to  him,  and  believed  herself 
safe,  but  Carlini  felt  his  heart  sink,  for  lie  but  too  well 
knew  the  fate  that  awaited  her.  However,  as  he  was  a 


338  THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO. 

favorite  with  Cucumetto,  as  he  had  for  three  years  faith 
fully  served  him,  and  as  he  had  saved  his  life  by  shooting 
a  dragoon  who  was  about  to  cut  him  down,  he  hoped  he 
would  have  pity  on  him.  He  took  him  apart,  while  the 
young  girl,  seated  at  the  foot  of  a  huge  pine  that  stood  in 
in  the  center  of  the  forest,  formed  with  her  picturesque 
head-dress  a  veil  to  hide  her  face  from  the  lascivious  gaze 
of  the  bandits.  There  he  told  him  all — his  affection  for 
the  prisoner,  their  promise  of  mutual  fidelity,  and  how 
every  night,  since  he  had  been  near,  they  had  met  in  a 
ruin. 

"It  so  happened  that  night  that  Cucumetto  had  sent 
Carlini  to  a  neighboring  village,  so  that  he  had  been 
unable  to  go  to  the  place  of  meeting.  Cucumetto  had 
been  there,  however,  by  accident,  as  he  said,  and  had  car- 
ried the  maiden  off.  Carlini  besought  his  chief  to  make 
an  exception  in  Rita's  favor,  as  her  father  was  rich  and 
could  pay  a  large  ransom.  Cucumetto  seemed  to  yield  to 
his  friend's  entreaties,  and  bade  him  find  a  shepherd  to 
send  to  Rita's  father  at  Frosinone.  Carlini  flew  joyfully 
to  Rita,  telling  her  she  was  saved,  and  bidding  her  write 
to  her  father  to  inform  him  what  had  occurred,  and  that 
her  ransom  was  fixed  at  300  piastres.  Twelve  hours'  delay 
was  all  that  was  granted — that  is,  until  9  o'clock  the  next 
morning.  The  instant  the  letter  was  written  Carlini 
seized  it  and  hastened  to  the  plain  to  find  a  messenger. 
He  found  a  young  shepherd  watching  his  flock.  The 
natural  messengers  of  the  bandits  are  the  shepherds,  who 
live  between  the  city  and  the  mountains — between  civil- 
ized and  savage  life.  The  boy  undertook  the  commission, 
promising  to  be  in  Frosinone  in  less  than  an  hour.  Carlini 
returned,  anxious  to  see  his  mistress  and  announce  the  joy- 
ful intelligence.  He  found  the  troop  in  the  glade,  supping 
off  the  provisions  exacted  as  contributions  from  the  peas- 
ants, but  his  eye  vainly  sought  Rita  and  Cucumetto  among 
them.  He  inquired  where  they  were  and  was  answered  by 
a  burst  of  laughter.  A  cold  perspiration  burst  from  every 
pore,  and  his  hair  stood  on  end.  He  repeated  his  ques- 
tion. One  of  the  bandits  rose  and  offered  him  a  glass 
filled  with  wine  of  Orvietto,  saying: 

"  '  To  the  health  of  the  brave  Cucumetto  and  the  fair 
Rita.' 

"  At  this  moment  Carlina  heard  the  cry  of  a  woman;  he 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTR  CRISTO  339 

divined  the  truth,  seized  the  glass,  broke  it  across  the  face 
of  him  who  presented  it,  and  rushed  toward  the  spot 
whence  the  cry  came.  After  100  yards  he  turned  the 
corner  of  the  thicket;  he  found  Rita  senseless  in  the  arms 
of  Cucumetto.  At  the  sight  of  Carlini  Cucumetto  rose,  a 
pistol  in  each  hand.  The  two  brigands  looked  at  each 
other  for  a  moment — the  one  with  a  smile  of  lasciviousness 
on  his  lips,  the  other  with  the  palor  of  death  on  his  brow. 
It  seemed  that  something  terrible  was  about  to  pass  be- 
tween these  two  men,  but  by  degrees  Carlini's  features  re- 
laxed, his  hand,  which  had  grasped  one  of  the  pistols  in 
his  belt,  fell  to  his  side.  Rita  lay  between  them.  The 
moon  lighted  the  group. 

"  '  Well/  said  Cucumetto,  *  have  you  executed  your  com- 
mission?' 

"  '  Yes,  captain/  returned  Carlini.  '  At  9  o'clock  to- 
morrow Rita's  father  will  be  here  with  the  money.' 

"  '  It  is  well;  in  the  meantime,  we  will  have  a  merry 
night;  this  young  girl  is  charming  and  does  credit  to  your 
taste.  Now,  as  I  am  not  egotistical,  we  will  return  to  our 
comrades  and  draw  lots  for  her.' 

"  '  You  have  determined  then,  to  abandon  her  to  the 
common  law?'  said  Carlini. 

"  '  Why  should  an  exception  be  made  in  her  favor?' 

"'I  thought  that  my  entreaties ' 

"  '  What  right  have  you,  any  more  than  the  rest,  to  ask 
for  an  exception?' 

"'It  is  true.' 

"  '  But  never  mind/  continued  Cucumetto,  laughing, 
'  sooner  or  later  your  turn  will  come.' 

"  Carlini's  teeth  clinched  convulsively. 

"'Now,  then/ said  Cucumetto,  advancing  toward  the 
other  bandits,  '  are  you  coming?' 

"  '  I  follow  you.' 

"  Cucumetto  departed,  without  losing  sight  of  Carlini, 
for,  doubtless,  he  reared  that  he  should  strike  him  una- 
wares; but  nothing  betrayed  a  hostile  design  on  Carlini's 
part.  He  was  standing,  his  arms  folded,  near  Rita,  who 
was  still  insensible.  Cucumetto  fancied  for  a  moment  the 
young  man  was  about  to  take  her  in  his  arms  and  fly,  but 
this  mattered  little  to  him  now  Rita  had  been  his;  and,  as 
for  the  money,  300  piastres  distributed  among  the  band  was 
so  small  a  sum  that  he  cared  little  about  it.  He  continued 


340  TEE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRI8TO. 

to  follow  the  path  to  the  glade,  but,  to  his  great  surprise, 
Carlini  arrived  almost  as  soon  as  himself. 

"  '  Let  us  draw  lots — let  us  draw  lots!'  cried  all  the 
brigands,  when  they  saw  the  chief. 

"  Their  demand  was  fair,  and  the  chief  inclined  his 
head  in  sign  of  acquiescence.  The  eyes  of  all  shone  fiercely 
as  they  made  their  demand,  and  the  red  light  of  the  fire 
made  them  look  like  demons.  The  names  of  all,  including 
Carlini,  were  placed  in  a  hat,  and  the  youngest  of  the 
band  drew  forth  a  ticket;  the  ticket  bore  the  name  of 
Diavolaccio.  He  was  the  man  who  had  proposed  to 
Carlini  the  health  of  their  chief,  and  to  whom  Carlini 
replied  by  breaking  the  glass  across  his  face.  A  large 
wound,  extending  from  the  temple  to  the  mouth,  was  bleed- 
ing profusely.  Diavolaccio,  seeing  himself  thus  favored  by 
fortune,  burst  into  a  loud  laugh.  '  Captain/  said  he,  '  just 
now  Carlini  would  not  drink  your  health  when  I  proposed  it 
to  him;  propose  mine  to  him,  and  let  us  see  if  he  will  be  more 
condescending  to  you  than  to  me/  Every  one  expected 
an  explosion  on  Carlini's  part;  but  to  their  great  surprise, 
he  took  a  glass  in  one  hand  and  a  flask  in  the  other,  and 
filMng  it:  'Your  health,  Diavolaccio/  said  he,  calmly,  and 
he  drank  it  off  without  his  hand  trembling  in  the  least. 
Then  sitting  down  by  the  fire:  'My  supper/  said  he; 
'  my  expedition  has  given  me  an  appetite/ 

"  *  Well  done,  Carlini!'  cried  the  brigands;  *  that  is  act- 
ing like  a  good  fellow;'  and  all  formed  a  circle  round  the 
fire,  while  Diavolaccio  disappeared. 

"Carlini  ate  and  drank  as  if  nothing  had  happened.  The 
bandits  looked  on  with  astonishment  at  this  singular  con- 
duct until  they  heard  footsteps.  They  turned  round  and 
saw  Diavolaccio  bearing  the  young  girl  in  his  arms.  Her 
head  hang  back  and  her  long  hair  swept  the  ground.  As 
they  entered  the  circle  the  bandits  could  perceive  by  the 
fire-light,  the  unearthly  pallor  of  the  young  girl  and  of 
Diavolaccia.  This  apparition  was  so  strange  and  so  solemn 
that  every  one  rose  with  the  exception  of  Carlini,  who  re- 
mained seated  and  ate  and  drank  calmly.  Diavolaccio  ad- 
vanced amid  the  most  profound  silence,  and  laid  Eita  at 
the  captain's  feet.  Then  every  one  could  understand  the 
cause  of  the  unearthly  pallor  of  the  young  girl  and  the 
bandit.  A  knife  was  plunged  up  to  the  hilt  in  Eita's  left 
breast.  Every  one  looked  at  Carlini;  the  sheath  at  his  belt 
was  empty. 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRI8TO.  341 

" 'Ah!  ah!'  said  the  chief,  ' I  now  understand  why  Car- 
lini  stayed  behind/ 

"All  savage  natures  appreciate  a  desperate  deed.  No  other 
of  the  bandits  would,  perhaps,  have  done  the  same ;  but 
they  all  understood  what  Carlini  had  done. 

"  '  Now,  then/  cried  Carlini,  rising  in  his  turn,  and  ap- 
proaching the  corpse,  his  hand  on  the  butt  of  one  of  his 
pistols,  'does  any  one  dispute  the  possession  of  this  woman 
with  me?' 

"  ' No/  returned  the  chief,  '  she  is  thine.' 

"Carlini  raised  her  in  his  arms  and  carried  her  out  of  the 
circle  of  light  caused  by  the  fire.  Cucumetto  placed  his 
sentinels  for  the  night,  and  the  bandits  wrapped  them- 
selves in  their  cloaks  and  lay  down  before  the  fire.  At  mid- 
night the  sentinel  gave  the  alarm,  and  in  an  instant  all 
were  on  the  alert.  It  was  Rita's  father,  who  brought  his 
daughter's  ransom  in  person. 

"  '  Here,'  said  he,  to  Cucumetto,  '  here  are  300  piastres; 
give  me  back  my  child/ 

"  But  the  chief,  without  taking  the  money,  made  a  sign 
to  him  to  follow  him.  The  old  man  obeyed.  They  both 
advanced  beneath  the  trees,  through  whose  branches 
streamed  the  moonlight.  Cucumetto  stopped  at  last,  and 
pointed  to  two  persons  grouped  at  the  foot  of  a  tree. 

"'There/  said  he,  'demand  thy  child  of  Carlini;  he 
will  tell  thee  what  has  become  of  her;'  and  he  returned  to 
his  companions. 

"  The  old  man  remained  motionless;  he  felt  that  some 
great  and  unforeseen  misfortune  hung  over  his  head.  At 
length  he.  advanced  toward  the  group,  which  he  could  not 
comprehend.  As  he  approached,  Carlini  raised  his  head, 
and  the  forms  of  two  persons  became  visible  to  the  old  man's 
eyes.  A  female  lay  on  the  ground,  her  head  resting  on  the 
knees  of  a  man  who  was  seated  by  her ;  as  he  raised  his 
head  the  female's  face  became  visible.  The  old  man  recog- 
nized the  child,  and  Carlini  recognized  the  old  man. 

"  '  I  expected  thee/  said  the  bandit,  to  Rita's  father. 

"'Wretch!'  returned  the  old  man,  'what  hast  thou 
done?'  and  he  gazed  with  terror  on  Rita,  pale  and  bloody, 
a  knife  buried  in  her  bosom. 

"  A  ray  of  moonlight  poured  through  the  trees  and 
lighted  up  the  face  of  the  dead. 

"  'Cucumetto  had  violated  thy  daughter/  said  the  bandit; 


342  THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRI8TO. 

( I  loved  her,  therefore  I  slew  her ;  for  she  would  have 
served  as  the  sport  of  the  whole  band/ 

"  The  old  man  spoke  not,  and  grew  pale  as  death. 

"  '  Now/  continued  Carlini,  *  if  I  have  done  wrongly, 
avenge  her;  and  withdrawing  the  knife  from  the  wound  in 
Rita's  bosom,  he  held  it  out  to  the  old  man  with  one  hand, 
while  with  the  other  he  tore  open  his  vest. 

"'Thou  hast  done  well!'  returned  the  old  man,  in  a 
hoarse  voice;  '  embrace  me,  my  son.' 

"  '  Carlini  threw  himself,  sobbing  like  a  child,  into  the 
arms  of  his  mistress'  father.  These  were  the  first  tears  the 
man  of  blood  had  ever  wept. 

" '  Now,'  said  the  old  man,  '  aid  me  to  bury  my  child.' 

"  Carlini  fetched  two  pickaxes  ;  and  the  father  and  the 
lover  began  to  dig  at  the  foot  of  a  huge  oak,  beneath  which 
the  young  girl  was  to  repose.  When  the  grave  was  formed 
the  father  embraced  her  first,  and  then  the  lover;  after- 
ward, one  taking  the  head,  the  other  the  feet,  they  placed 
her  in  the  grave.  Then  they  knelt  on  each  side  of  the 
grave  and  said  the  prayers  of  the  dead.  Then,  when  they 
had  finished,  they  cast  the  earth  over  the  corpse  until  the 
grave  was  filled.  Then,  extending  his  hand,  the  old  man 
said  :  'I  thank  you,  my  son;  and  now  leave  me  alone.' 

"  '  Yet '  replied  Carlini. 

"  '  Leave  me,  I  command  you.' 

"  Carlini  obeyed,  rejoined  his  comrades,  folded  himself  in 
his  cloak,  and  soon  appeared  as  deep  asleep  as  the  rest.  It 
had  been  resolved  the  night  before  to  change  their  encamp- 
ment. An  hour  before  daybreak,  Cucumetto  aroused  his 
men  and  gave  the  word  to" march.  But  Carlini  would  not 
quit  the  forest  without  knowing  what  had  become  of  Rita's 
father.  He  went  toward  the  place  where  he  had  left  him. 
He  found  the  old  man  suspended  from  one  of  the  branches 
of  the  oak  which  shaded  his  daughter's  grave.  He  then 
took  an  oath  of  bitter  vengence  over  the  dead  body  of  the 
one  and  the  tomb  of  the  other.  But  he  was  unable  to 
complete  this  oath  for  two  days  afterward,  in  a  renconter 
with  the  Roman  carbineers,  Carlini  was  killed.  There  was 
some  surprise,  however,  that,  as  he  was  with  his  face  to 
the  enemy,  he  should  have  received  a  ball  between  his 
shoulders.  That  astonishment  ceased  when  one  of  the 
brigands  remarked  to  his  comrades  that  Cucumetto  was 
stationed  ten  paces  in  Carlini's  rear  when  he  fell.  On  the 


THK  COUNT  OF  MONTE  VRI8TO.  343 

morning  of  the  departure  from  the  forest  of  Frosinone  he 
had  followed  Carlini  in  the  darkness,  had  heard  his  oath 
of  vengeance,  and,  like  a  wise  man,  anticipated  it.  They 
told  ten  other  stories  of  this  bandit  chief,  each  more 
singular  than  the  other.  Thus,  from  Fondi  to  Perouse, 
every  one  trembles  at  the  name  of  Cucumetto.  These 
narratives  were  frequently  the  themes  of  conversation  be- 
tween Luigi  and  Teresa.  The  young  girl  trembled  very 
much  at  all  these  tales;  but  Vampa  reassured  her  with  a 
smile,  tapping  the  butt  of  nis  good  fowling-piece,  which 
threw  its  ball  so  well;  and  if  that  did  not  restore  her  cour- 
age, he  pointed  to  a  crow  perched  on  some  dead  branch, 
took  an  aim,  touched  the  trigger,  and  the  bird  fell  dead  at 
the  foot  of  the  tree.  Time  passed  on,  and  the  two  young 
people  had  settled  to  be  married  when  Vampa  should  be 
20  and  Teresa  19  years  of  age.  They  were  both  orphans, 
and  had  only  their  employers'  leave  to  ask,  which  had  been 
already  sought  and  obtained.  One  day  when  they  were 
talking  over  their  plans  for  the  future,  they  heard  two  or 
three  reports  of  firearms,  and  then  suddenly  a  man  came  out 
of  the  wood,  near  which  the  two  young  persons  used  to  graze 
their  flocks,  and  hurried  toward  them.  When  he  came 
within  hearing,  he  exclaimed  :  '  I  am  pursued  ;  can  you 
conceal  me?'  They  knew  full  well  that  this  fugitive  must 
be  a  bandit;  but  there  is  an  innate  sympathy  between  the 
Eoman  brigand  and  the  Roman  peasant,  and  the  latter  is 
always  ready  to  aid  the  former.  Vampa,  without  saying 
a  word,  hastened  to  the  stone  that  closed  up  the  entrance 
to  their  grotto,  drew  it  away,  made  a  sign  to  the  fugitive 
to  take  refuge  there,  in  a  retreat  unknown  to  every  one, 
closed  the  stone  upon  him,  and  then  went  and  resumed 
his  seat  by  Teresa.  Instantly  afterward  four  carbineers, 
on  horseback,  appeared  on  the  edge  of  the  wood;  three  of 
them  appeared  to  be  looking  for  the  fugitive,  while  the 
fourth  dragged  a  brigand  prisoner  by  the  neck.  The  three 
carbineers  scrutinized  on  all  sides,  saw  the  young  peasants, 
and,  galloping  up,  interrogated  them.  They  had  seen  no 
one. 

'"That  is  very  annoying,' said  the  carbineer;  'for  the 
man  we  are  looking  for  is  the  chief.' 

"'Cucumetto?'  cried  Luigi  and  Teresa,  at  the  same 
moment. 

" '  Yes,'   replied   the   carbineer;    'and,   as  his  head   is 


344  THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO. 

valued  at  1,000  Roman  crowns,  there  would  have  been 
500  for  you,  if  you  had  helped  us  to  catch  him/  The  two 
young  persons  exchanged  looks.  The  carbineer  had  a 
moment's  hope.  Five  hundred  Eoman  crowns  are  3,000 
francs,  and  3,000  francs  are  a  fortune  for  two  poor  orphans 
who  are  going  to  be  married. 

"  'Yes,  it  is  very  annoying/  said  Vampa;  'but  we  have 
not  seen  him/ 

"  Then  the  carbineers  scoured  the  country  in  different 
directions,  but  in  vain;  then*  after  a  time,  they  disap- 
peared. Vampa  then  removed  the  stone  and  Cucnmetto 
came  out.  He  had  seen,  through  the  crevices  in  the 
granite,  the  two  young  peasants  talking  with  these  carbi- 
neers, and  guessed  the  subject  of  their  parley.  He  had 
read  in  the  countenances  of  Luigi  and  Teresa  their  stead- 
fast resolution  not  to  surrender  him,  and  he  drew  from  his 
pocket  a  purse  full  of  gold,  which  he  offered  to  them. 
But  Vampa  raised  his  head  proudly;  as  to  Teresa,  her  eyes 
sparkled  when  she  thought  of  all  the  fine  gowns  and  gay 
jewelry  she  could  buy  with  this  purse  of  gold. 

"  Cucumetto  was  a  cunning  fiend,  and  had  assumed  the 
form  of  a  brigand  instead  of  a  serpent,  and  this  look  of 
Teresa  revealed  to  him  that  she  was  a  worthy  daughter  of 
Eve,  and  he  returned  to  the  forest,  pausing  several  times 
on  his  way,  under  the  pretex  of  saluting  his  protectors. 
Several  days  elapsed,  and  they  neither  saw  nor  heard  of 
Cucumetto.  The  time  of  the  carnival  was  at  hand.  The 
Comte  de  San-Felice  announced  a  grand  masked  ball,  to 
which  all  that  were  distinguished  in  Borne  were  invited. 
Teresa  had  a  great  desire  to  see  this  ball.  Luigi  asked 
permission  of  his  protector,  the  steward,  that  she  and  he 
might  be  present  among  the  servants  of  the  house.  This 
was  granted.  The  ball  was  given  by  the  count  for  the 
particular  pleasure  of  his  daughter  Carmela,  whom  he 
adored.  Carmela  was  precisely  the  age  and  figure  of  Te- 
resa, and  Teresa  was  as  handsome  as  Carmela.  On  the 
evening  of  the  ball  Teresa  was  attired  in  her  best,  her  most 
brilliant  hair  ornaments,  and  gayest  glass  beads — she  was 
in  the  costume  of  the  women  of  Frascati.  Luigi  wore 
the  very  picturesque  garb  of  the  Roman  peasant  at  holi- 
day time.  They  both  mixed,  as  they  had  leave  to  do,  with 
the  servants  and  peasants. 

"The  f6te  was  magnificent;  not  only  was  the    villa 


THE  CO  UNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO.  345 

brilliantly  illuminated,  but  thousands  of  colored  lanterns 
were  suspended  from  the  trees  in  the  garden;  and  very 
soon  the  palace  overflowed  to  the  terraces,  and  the  terraces 
to  the  garden- walks.  At  each  cross-path  was  an  orchestra, 
and  tables  spread  with  refreshments;  the  guests  stopped, 
formed  quadrilles,  and  danced  in  every  part  of  the  grounds 
they  pleased.  Carmela  was  attired  like  a  woman  of  Son- 
nine.  Her  cap  was  embroidered  with  pearls,  the  pins  in 
her  hair  were  of  gold  and  diamonds,  her  girdle  was  of 
Turkey  silk,  with  large  embroidered  flowers,  her  bodice  and 
skirt  were  of  cachemire,  her  apron  of  Indian  muslin,  and 
the  buttons  of  her  corset  were  of  jewels.  Two  of  her 
companions  were  dressed,  the  one  as  a  woman  of  Nettuno, 
and  the  other  as  a  woman  of  La  Eiccia.  Four  young  men 
of  the  richest  and  noblest  families  of  Eome  accompanied 
them  with  that  Italian  freedom  which  has  not  its  parallel 
in  any  other  country  of  the  world.  They  were  attired  as 
peasants  of  Albauo,  Velletri,  Civita-Castellana  and  Sora. 
We  need  hardly  add  that  these  peasant  costumes,  like 
those  of  the  females,  were  brilliant  with  gold  and  jewels. 

"  Carmela  wished  to  make  a  uniform  quadrille,  but 
there  was  one  lady  wanting.  Carmela  looked  all  around 
her,  but  not  one  of  the  guests  had  a  costume  similar  to 
her  own,  or  those  of  her  companions.  The  Comte  de  San- 
Felice  pointed  out  to  her  in  the  group  of  peasants,  Teresa, 
who  was  hanging  on  Luigi's  arm.  'Will  you  allow  me, 
father?'  said  Carmela. 

"  'Certainly,'  replied  the  comte,  *  are  you  not  in  carni- 
val time?' 

"Carmela  turned  toward  the  young  man  who  was  talk- 
ing with  her,  and  saying  a  few  words  to  him,  pointed  with 
her  finger  to  Teresa.  The  young  man  followed  with  his 
eyes  the  lovely  hand  which  made  this  indication,  bowed  in 
obedience,  and  then  went  to  Teresa,  and  invited  her  to 
dance  in  a  quadrille  directed  by  the  count's  daughter. 
Teresa  felt  something  like  a  flame  pass  over  her  face;  she 
looked  at  Luigi,  who  could  not  refuse  his  assent.  Luigi 
slowly  relinquished  Teresa's  arm,  which  he  had  held  be- 
neath his  own,  and  Teresa,  accompanied  by  her  elegant 
cavalier,  took  her  appointed  place  with  much  agitation  in 
the  aristocratic  quadrille.  Certainly,  in  the  eyes  of  an 
artist,  the  exact  and  strict  costume  of  Teresa  had  a  very 
different  character  from  that  of  Carmela  and  her  com- 


546  THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO. 

panions;  and  Teresa  was  frivolous  and  coquetish,  and  thus 
the  embroidery  and  muslins,  the  cachemire  waist-girdles, 
all  dazzled  her,  and  the  reflection  of  sapphires  and  dia- 
monds almost  turned  her  giddy  brain. 

"  Luigi  felt  a  sensation  hitherto  unknown  arising  in  his 
mind.  It  was  like  an  acute  pain  which  gnawed  at  his 
heart,  and  then  passed  thrillingly  throughout  his  frame, 
chasing  through  his  veins  and  pervading  his  entire  body. 
He  followed  with  his  eye  each  movement  of  Teresa  and 
her  cavalier;  when  their  hands  touched,  he  felt  as  though 
he  should  swoon;  every  pulse  beat  with  violence,  and  it 
seemed  as  though  a  bell  were  ringing  in  his  ears.  When 
they  spoke,  although  Teresa  listened  timidly  and  with 
downcast  eyes  to  the  conversation  of  her  cavalier,  as  Luigi 
could  read  in  the  ardent  looks  of  the  good-looking  young 
man  that  his  language  was  that  of  praise,  it  seemed  as  if 
the  whole  world  was  turning  round  with  him,  and  all  the 
voices  of  hell  were  whispering  in  his  ears  ideas  of  murder 
and  assassination.  Then  fearing  that  his  paroxysm  might 
get  the  better  of  him,  he  clutched  with  one  hand  the 
branch  of  a  tree  against  which  he  was  leaning,  and  with 
the  other  convulsively  grasped  the  dagger  with  a  carved 
handle  which  was  in  his  belt,  and  which,  unwittingly  he 
drew  from  the  scabbard  from  time  to  time.  Luigi  was 
jealous!  He  felt  that,  influenced  by  her  ambition  and 
coquettish  disposition,  Teresa  might  escape  him. 

"The  young  peasant  girl,  at  first  timid  and  scared,  soon 
recovered  herself.  We  have  said  that  Teresa  was  hand- 
some, but  this  is  not  all;  Teresa  was  replete  with  all  those 
wild  graces  which  are  so  much  more  potent  than  our 
affected  and  studied  elegances.  She  had  almost  all  the 
honors  of  the  quadrille,  and  if  she  were  envious  of  the 
Comte  de  San-Felice's  daughter,  we  will  not  undertake  to 
say  that  Carmela  was  not  jealous  of  her.  And  with  over- 
powering compliments  her  handsome  cavalier  led  her  back 
to  the  place  where  he  had  taken  her,  and  where  Lnigi 
awaited  her.  Twice  or  thrice  during  the  dance  the  young 
girl  had  glanced  at  Luigi,  and  each  time  she  saw  he  was 
pale  and  his  features  agitated;  once  even  the  blade  of  his 
knife,  half  drawn  from  its  sheath,  had  dazzled  her  eyes 
with  its  sinister  glare.  Thus,  it  was  almost  trembling 
that  she  resumed  her  lover's  arms.  The  quadrille  had 
been  most  perfect,  and  it  was  evident  there  was  a 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO  347 

great  demand  for  a  second  edition,  Carmela  alone  ob- 
jecting to  it,  but  the  Comte  de  San-Felice  begged  his 
daughter  so  earnestly,  that  she  acceded  to  it.  One  of  the 
cavaliers  then  hastened  to  invite  Teresa,  without  whom  it 
was  impossible  the  quadrille  could  be  formed,  but  the 
young  girl  had  disappeared.  The  truth  was,  that  Luigi 
had  not  felt  the  strength  to  support  another  such  trial, 
and,  half  by  persuasion  and  half  oy  force,  he  had  removed 
Teresa  toward  another  part  of  the  garden.  Teresa  had 
yielded  in  spite  of  herself,  but  when  she  looked  at  the  agi- 
tated countenance  of  the  young  man,  she  understood  by 
his  silence  and  trembling  voice  that  something  strange  was 
passing  within  him.  She  herself  was  not  exempt  from  in- 
ternal emotion,  and  without  having  done  anything  wrong, 
yet  fully  comprehended  that  Luigi  was  right  in  reproach- 
ing her.  Why,  she  did  not  know,  but  yet  she  did  not  the 
less  feel  that  these  reproaches  were  merited.  However,  to 
Teresa's  great  astonishment,  Luigi  remained  mute,  and 
not  a  word  escaped  his  lips  the  rest  of  the  evening.  When 
the  chill  of  the  night  had  driven  away  the  guests  from  the 
gardens,  and  the  gates  of  the  villa  were  closed  on  them  for 
the  f6te  in-doors,  he  took  Teresa  quite  away,  and  as  he  left 
her  at  her  home,  he  said: 

"  '  Teresa,  what  were  you  thinking  of  as  you  danced  op- 
posite the  young  Comtesse  de  San -Felice? 

"  '  I  thought/  replied  the  young  girl,  with  all  the  frank- 
ness of  her  nature,  '  that  I  would  give  half  my  life  for  a 
costume  such  as  she  wore/ 

"  '  And  what  said  your  cavalier  to  you?' 

"  '  He  said  it  only  depended  on  myself  to  have  it,  and  I 
had  only  one  word  to  say.' 

"  '  He  was  right,'  said  Luigi.  '  Do  you  deaire  it  as 
ardently  as  you  say?" 

"  Yes.' 

" '  Well,  then,  you  shall  have  it.' 

"  The  young  girl,  much  astonished,  raised  her  head  to 
look  at  him,  but  his  face  was  so  gloomy  and  terrible  that 
her  words  froze  to  her  lips.  As  Luigi  spoke  thus,  he  left 
her.  Teresa  followed  him  with  her  eyes  into  the  darkness 
as  long  as  she  could,  and  when  he  had  quite  disappeared, 
she  entered  her  apartment  with  a  sigh. 

"  That  night  a  great  accident  happened,  no  doubt  from 
the  imprudence  of  some  servant  who  had  neglected  to  ex- 


348  THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRI8TO. 

tinguished  the  lights.  The  Villa  de  San-Felice  took  fire 
in  the  rooms  adjoining  the  very  apartment  of  the  lovely 
Carmela.  Awoke  in  the  night  by  the  light  of  the  flames, 
she  had  sprung  out  of  bed,  wrapped  herself  in  a  dressing- 
gown,  and  attempted  to  escape  by  the  door,  but  the  corri- 
dor by  which  she  hoped  to  fly  was  already  a  prey  to  the 
flames.  She  had  then  returned  to  her  room,  calling  for 
help  as  loudly  as  she  could,  when  suddenly  her  window, 
which  was  twenty  feet  from  the  ground,  was  opened,  a 
young  peasant  jumped  into  the  chamber,  seized  her  in  his 
arms,  and  with  superhuman  skill  and  strength  conveyed 
her  to  the  turf  of  the  grass-plot,  where  she  fainted.  When 
she  recovered,  her  father  was  by  her  side.  All  the  servants 
surrounded  her,  offering  her  assistance.  An  entire  wing  of 
the  villa  was  burned  down;  but  what  was  that,  as  Carmela 
was  safe  and  uninjured?  Her  preserver  was  everywhere 
sought  for,  but  her  deliverer  did  not  appear;  he  was  in- 
quired for  everywhere,  but  no  one  had  seen  him.  Carmela 
was  greatly  troubled  that  she  had  not  recognized  him.  As 
the  count  was  immensely  rich,  excepting  the  danger  Car- 
mela had  run,  and,  as  appeared  to  him,  the  marvelous 
manner  in  which  she  had  escaped,  which  was  rather  a 
favor  of  Providence  than  a  real  misfortune,  the  loss  occa- 
sioned by  the  conflagration  was  to  him  but  a  trifle. 

"The  next  day,  at  the  usual  hour,  the  two  young  peas- 
ants were  on  the  borders  of  the  forest.  Luigi  arrived  first. 
He  came  toward  Teresa  in  high  spirits,  and  seemed  to  have 
completely  forgotten  the  events  of  the  previous  evening. 
The  young  girl  was  very  pensive,  but  seeing  Luigi  so 
cheerful,  she  on  her  part  assumed  a  smiling  air,  which  was 
natural  to  her  when  no  excitement  of  passion  came  to  dis- 
turb her.  Luigi  took  her  arm  beneath  his  own,  and  led 
her  to  the  door  of  the  grotto.  Then  he  paused.  The 
young  girl,  perceiving  that  there  was  something  extraord- 
inary, looked  at.  him  steadfastly. 

'"Teresa/  said  Luigi,  'yesterday  evening  you  told  me 
you  would  give  all  the  world  to  have  a  costume  similar  to 
that  of  the  count's  daughter/ 

"  '  Yes/  replied  Teresa,  with  astonishment;  '  but  I  was 
mad  to  utter  such  a  wish/ 

"  And  I  replied,  '  Very  well,  you  shall  have  it/ 

"  '  Yes/  replied  the  young  girl,  whose  astonishment  in- 
creased at  every  word  uttered  by  Luigi,  '  but,  of  course, 
your  reply  was  only  to  please  me.' 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTB  CBISTO.  349 

"'I  have  promised  no  more  than  I  have  given  yon, 
Teresa/  said  Luigi,  proudly.  *  Go  into  the  grotto  and 
dress  yourself/ 

"At  these  words  he  drew  away  the  stone,  and  showed 
Teresa  the  grotto,  lighted  up  by  two  wax  lights,  which 
burned  on  each  side  of  a  splendid  mirror;  on  a  rustic  table 
made  by  Luigi,  were  spread  out  the  pearl  necklace  and  the 
diamond  pins,  and  on  a  chair  at  the  side  was  laid  the  rest 
of  the  costume. 

"  Teresa  uttered  a  cry  of  joy,  and,  without  inquiring 
whence  this  attire  came,  or  even  thanking  Luigi,  darted 
into  the  grotto,  transformed  into  a  dressing-room.  Luigi 
pushed  the  stone  behind  her,  for  he  saw  on  the  crest  of  a 
small  adjacent  hill  which  prevented  him  from  seeing  Pales- 
trina  from  where  he  was,  a  traveler  on  horseback,  who 
stopped  a  moment,  as  if  uncertain  of  his  road,  and  thus 
presented,  in  the  blue  sky,  that  perfect  outline  peculiar  to 
the  distances  of  southern  climes.  When  he  saw  Luigi,  he 
put  his  horse  into  a  gallop  and  advanced  toward  him. 
Luigi  was  not  mistaken.  The  traveler,  who  was  going 
from  Palestrina  to  Tivoli,  had  mistaken  his  way;  the  young 
man  directed  him;  but  as  at  a  quarter  of  a  mile  distance 
the  road  again  divided  into  three  ways,  and  on  reaching 
these  the  traveler  might  again  stray  from  his  route,  he 
begged  Luigi  to  be  his  guide.  Luigi  threw  his  cloak  on 
the  ground,  placed  his  carbine  on  his  shoulder,  and  freed 
from  his  heavy  covering,  preceded  the  traveler  with  the 
rapid  step  of  a  mountaineer,  which  a  horse  can  scarcely 
keep  up  with.  In  ten  minutes  Luigi  and  the  traveler 
reached  the  cross-roads  alluded  to  by  the  young  shepherd. 
On  arriving  there,  with  an  air  as  majestic  as  that  of  an  em- 
peror, he  stretched  his  hand  toward  that  one  of  the  roads 
which  the  traveler  was  to  follow. 

"  '  That  is  your  road,  excellency,  and  now  you  cannot 
again  mistake/ 

"  ( And  here  is  your  recompense/  said  the  traveler,  offer- 
ing the  young  herdsman  some  pieces  of  small  money. 

"'  Thank  you/  said  Luigi,  drawing  back  his  hand;  'I 
render  a  service,  I  do  not  sell  it.' 

"  *  Well,  replied  the  traveler,  who  seemed  used  to  this 
difference  between  the  servility  of  a  man  of  the  cities  and 
pride  of  the  mountaineer,  '  if  you  refuse  pay,  you  will,  per- 
haps, accept  of  a  present." 


350  THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO 

"  '  Ah,  yes,  that  is  another  thing.' 

"  '  Then/  said  the  traveler,  '  take  these  two  Venice 
sequins  and  give  them  to  your  bride,  to  make  herself 
a  pair  of  earrings/ 

"  'And  then  do  you  take  this  poniard/  said  the  young 
herdsman;  '  you  will  not  find  one  better  carved  between 
Albana  and  Civita-Castellaua/ 

"  ( I  accept  it/  answered  the  traveler,  '  but  then  the  ob- 
ligation will  be  on  my  side,  for  this  poniard  is  worth  more 
than  two  sequins.' 

"  '  For  a  dealer  perhaps;  but  for  me,  who  engraved  it 
myself,  it  is  hardly  worth  a  piastre/ 

"  '  What  is  your  name/  inquired  the  traveler. 

"  'Luigi  Vampa/  replied  the  shepherd,  with  the  same 
air  as  he  would  have  replied,  Alexander,  King  of  Macedon. 

" '  And  yours?' 

"'I/  said  the  traveler,  am  called  'Sinbad  the  Sailor/" 

Franz  d'Epina  started  with  surprise. 

"  *  Sinbad  the  Sailor/"  he  said. 

"Yes,"  replied  the  narrator;  "that  was  the  name  which 
the  traveler  gave  to  Vampa  as  his  own." 

"Well,  and  what  may  you  have  to  say  against  this 
name  ?"  inquired  Albert;  "  it  is  a  very  pretty  name,  and 
the  adventures  of  the  gentleman  of  that  name  amused  me 
very  much  in  my  youth,  I  must  confess." 

Franz  said  no  more.  The  name  of  "  Sinbad  the  Sailor,"  as 
may  well  be  supposed,  awakened  in  him  a  world  of  recol- 
lections, as  had  the  name  of  the  Count  of  Monte  Cristo  on 
the  previous  evening. 

"  Proceed  !"  said  he  to  the  host. 

"  Vampa  put  the  two  sequins  haughtily  into  his  pocket, 
and  slowly  returned  by  the  way  he  had  gone.  As  he  came 
within  two  or  three  hundred  paces  of  the  grotto,  he 
thought  he  heard  a  cry.  He  listened  to  know  whence  this 
sound  could  proceed.  A  moment  afterward  and  he  heard 
his  own  name  pronounced  distinctly.  The  cry  proceeded 
from  the  grotto.  He  bounded  like  a  chamois,  cocking  his 
carbine  as  he  went,  and  in  a  moment  reached  the  summit 
of  a  hill  opposite  to  that  on  which  he  had  perceived  the 
traveler.  Thence  cries  of  help  came  more  distinctly  on  his 
ear.  He  cast  his  eyes  around  him,  and  saw  a  man  carry- 
ing off  Teresa,  as  did  the  Centaur  Nessus,  Dejanira.  This 
man,  who  was  hastening  toward  the  wood,  was  already 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CR1STO.  351 

three-quarters  of  the  way  on  the  road  from  the  grotto  to 
the  forest.  Vampa  measured  the  distance;  the  man  was  at 
least  two  hundred  paces  in  advance  of  him,  and  there  was 
not  a  chance  of  overtaking  him.  The  young  shepherd 
stopped,  as  if  his  feet  had  been  rooted  to  the  ground;  then' 
he  put  the  butt  of  his  carbine  to  his  shoulder,  took  aim  at 
the  ravisher,  followed  him  for  a  second  in  his  track  and 
then  fired.  The  ravisher  stopped  suddenly,  his  knees  bent 
under  him  and  he  fell  with  Teresa  in  his  arms.  The  young 
girl  rose  instantly,  but  the  man  lay  on  the  earth  struggling 
in  the  agonies  of  death.  Vampa  then  rushed  toward 
Teresa;  for  at  ten  paces  from  the  dying  man  her  legs  had 
failed  her,  and  she  dropped  on  her  knees,  so  that  the  young 
man  feared  that  the  ball  that  had  brought  down  his  enemy 
had  also  wounded  his  betrothed.  Fortunately,  she  was 
unscathed,  and  it  was  fright  alone  that  had  overcome 
Teresa.  When  Luigi  had  assured  himself  that  she  was 
safe  and  unharmed,  he  turned  toward  the  wounded  man. 
He  had  just  expired,  with  clinched  hands,  his  mouth  in  a 
spasm  of  agony  and  his  hair  on  end  in  the  sweat  of  death. 
His  eyes  remained  open  and  menacing.  Vampa  ap- 
proached the  carcass  and  recognized  Cucumetto.  From  the 
day  on  which  the  bandit  had  been  saved  by  the  two  young 
peasants  he  had  been  enamored  of  Teresa,  and  had  sworn 
she  should  be  his.  From  that  time  he  watched  them,  and 
profiting  by  die  moment  when  her  lover  had  left  her  alone, 
while  he  guided  the  traveler  on  his  way,  had  carried  her 
off,  and  believed  he  at  length  had  her  in  his  power,  when 
the  ball,  directed  by  the  unerring  skill  of  the  young  herds- 
man, had  pierced  his  heart.  Vampa  gazed  on  him  for  a 
moment  without  betraying  the  slightest  emotion;  while, 
on  the  contrary,  Teresa,  shuddering  in  every  limb,  dared 
not  approach  the  slain  ruffian  but  by  degrees,  and  threw  a 
hesitating  glance  at  the  dead  body  over  the  shoulder  of  her 
lover.  Suddenly  Vampa  turned  toward  his  mistress: 

"'Ah!  ah  !' said  he — 'good,  good!  you  are  attired;  it 
is  now  my  turn  to  dress  myself/ 

"  Teresa  was  clothed  from  head  to  foot  in  the  garb  of 
the  Conapte  de  San-Felice's  daughter.  Vampa  took  Cucu- 
metto's  body  in  his  arms  and  conveyed  it  to  the  grotto, 
while  in  her  turn  Teresa  remained  outside.  If  a  second 
traveler  had  passed,  he  would  have  seen  a  strange  thing;  a 
shepherdess  watching  her  flock,  clad  in  a  cachemire  gown, 


353  THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRI8TO. 

with  ear-rings  and  necklace  of  pearls,  diamond  pins  and  but- 
tons of  sapphires,  emeralds  and  rubies.  He  would,  no  doubt, 
have  believed  that  he  had  returned  to  the  times  of  Florian, 
and  would  have  declared,  on  reaching  Paris,  that  he  had 
met  a  shepherdess  of  the  Alps  seated  at  the  foot  of  the 
Sabine  hill.  At  the  end  of  a  quarter  of  an  hour  Vain  pa 
quitted  the  grotto;  his  costume  was  no  less  elegant  than 
that  of  Teresa.  He  wore  a  vest  of  garnet-colored  velvet, 
with  buttons  of  cut  gold;  a  silk  waistcoat  covered  with 
embroidery;  a  Roman  scarf  tied  round  his  neck;  a  car- 
touche-box worked  with  gold,  and  red  and  green  silk;  sky- 
blue  velvet  breeches,  fastened  above  the  knee  with  diamond 
buckles;  garters  of  deer-skin  worked  with  a  thousand  ara- 
besques, and  a  hat  whereon  hung  ribbons  of  all  colors; 
two  watches  hung  from  his  girdle,  and  a  splendid  poinard 
was  in  his  belt.  Teresa  uttered  a  cry  of  admiration. 
Vampa  in  this  attire  resembled  a  painting  by  Leopold 
Robert  or  Schnerz.  He  had  assumed  the  entire  costume  of 
Cucumetto.  The  young  man  saw  the  effect  produced  on 
his  betrothed,  and  a  smile  of  pride  passed  over  his  lips. 

"  '  Now/  he  said  to  Teresa,  '  are  you  ready  to  share  my 
fortune,  whatever  it  may  be  ?' 

"  'Oh,  yes/  exclaimed  the  young  girl,  enthusiastically. 

"  <  And  follow  me  wherever  I  go  ?' 

"  <  To  the  world's  end/ 

"  '  Then  take  my  arm  and' let  us  go  on,  we  have  no  time 
to  lose.' 

"  The  young  girl  did  so  without  questioning  her  lover  as 
to  where  he  was  conducting  her,  for  he  appeared  to  her  at 
this  moment  as  handsome,  proud  and  powerful  as  a  god. 
They  went  toward  the  forest,  and  soon  entered  it.  We 
need  scarcely  say  that  all  the  paths  of  the  mountain  were 
known  to  Vampa;  he  therefore  went  forward  without  a 
moment's  hesitation,  although  there  was  no  beaten  track; 
but  he  knew  his  path  by  looking  at  the  trees  and  bushes; 
and  thus  they  kept  on  advancing  for  nearly  an  hour  and  a 
half.  At  the  end  of  this  time  they  had  reached  the 
thickest  of  the  forest.  A  torrent,  whose  bed  was  dry,  led 
into  a  deep  gorge.  Vampa  took  this  wild  road,  which,  in- 
closed between  two  ridges,  and  shadowed  by  the  tufted 
umbrage  of  the  pines,  seemed,  but  for  the  difficulties  of  its 
descent,  that  path  to  Avernus  of  which  Virgil  speaks. 
Teresa  had  become  alarmed  at  the  wild  and  deserted  look 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRI8TO.  353 

of  the  plain  around  her,  and  pressed  closely  against  her 
guide,  not  uttering  a  syllable;  but,  as  she  saw  him  advance 
with  even  step  and  composed  countenance,  she  endeavored 
to  repress  her  emotion.  Suddenly,  about  ten  paces  from 
them,  a  man  advanced  from  behind  a  tree  and  aimed  at 
Vampa. 

" '  Not  another  step/  he  said,  '  or  you  are  a  dead  man.' 

'"What  then!'  said  Vampa,  raising  his  hand  with  a 
gesture  of  disdain,  while  Teresa,  no  longer  able  to  restrain 
her  alarm,  clung  closely  to  him  ;  '  do  wolves  rend  each 
other  ?' 

"  '  Who  are  you  ?'  inquired  the  sentinel. 

" '  I  am  Luigi  Vampa,  shepherd  of  the  farm  of  San- 
Felice.' 

"  <  What  do  you  want  ?' 

"  '  I  would  speak  with  your  companions  who  are  in  the 
recess  at  Rocco  Bianca.' 

"  '  Follow  me,  then,"  said  the  sentinel;  '  or,  as  you 
know  your  way,  go  first.' 

"  Vampa  smiled  disdainfully  at  this  precaution  of  the 
bandit,  went  before  Teresa,  and  continued  to  advance  with 
the  same  firm  and  easy  step  as  before.  At  the  end  of  ten 
minutes  the  bandit  made  them  a  sign  to  stop.  The  two 
young  persons  obeyed.  Then  the  bandit  thrice  imitated 
the  cry  of  a  crow;  a  croak  answered  this  signal. 

"  *  Good,"  said  the  sentry;  '  you  may  now  advance.' 

"  Luigi  and  Teresa  again  set  forward;  as  they  advanced 
Teresa  clung  tremblingly  to  her  lover,  as  she  saw  through 
the  trees  arms  appear  and  the  barrels  of  carbines  shine. 
The  retreat  of  Rocca  Bianca  was  at  the  top  of  a  small 
mountain,  which  no  doubt  in  former  days  had  been  a  volcano 
— an  extinct  volcano  before  the  days  when  Remus  and 
Romulus  had  deserted  Alba  to  come  and  found  the  city 
of  Rome.  Teresa  and  Luigi  reached  the  summit,  and  all 
at  once  found  themselves  in  the  presence  of  twenty 
bandits. 

"  « Here  is  a  young  man  who  seeks  and  wishes  to  speak 
to  you,'  said  the  sentinel. 

"  'What  has  he  to  say?'  inquired  the  young  man,  who 
was  in  command  in  the  chief's  absence. 

"  '  I  wish  to  say  that  I  am  tired  of  a  shepherd's  life,'  was 
Vampa's  reply. 

'* '  Ah,  I  understand,'  said  the  lieutenant;  'and  you  seek 
admittance  into  our  ranks?' 


354  THE  CO  UNT  OF  MONTE  CRI8TO. 

"  (  Welcome!'  cried  several  bandits  of  Perrusiuo,  Pam- 
pinara  and  Anagni,  who  had  recognized  Luigi  Vampa. 

" '  Yes,  but  I  come  to  ask  something  more  than  to  be 
your  companion/ 

"  '  And  what  may  that  be?'  inquired  the  bandits,  with 
astonishment. 

"'I  come  to  ask  to  be  your  captain,' said  the  young 
man. 

"  The  bandits  shouted  with  laughter. 

"  '  And  what  have  you  done  to  aspire  to  this  honor/  de- 
manded the  lieutenant. 

" '  I  have  killed  your  chief,  Cucumetto,  whose  dress  I 
now  wear;  and  I  set  fire  to  the  Villa  San  Felice  to  procure 
•a  wedding-dress  for  my  betrothed.' 

"  An  hour  afterward  Luigi  Vampa  was  chosen  captain, 
vice  Cucumetto,  deceased." 

"  Well,  my  dear  Albert,"  said  Franz,  turning  toward  his 
friend,  "what  do  you  think  of  citizen  Luigi  Vampa?" 

"I  say  he  is  a  myth,"  replied  Albert,  "  and  never  had 
an  existence." 

"  And  what  may  a  myth  be?"  inquired  Pastrini. 

"  The  explanation  would  be  too  long,  my  dear  landlord," 
replied  Franz. 

"  And  you  say  that  Maitre  Vampa  exercises  his  profes- 
sion at  this  moment  in  the  environs  of  Rome?" 

"  And  with  a  boldness  of  which  no  bandit  before  him 
ever  gave  an  example." 

"  Then  the  police  have  vainly  tried  to  lay  hands  on 
him?" 

"  Why,  you  see,  he  has  a  good  understanding  with  the 
shepherds  in  the  plains,  the  fishermen  of  the  Tiber,  and 
the  smugglers  of  the  coast.  They  seek  for  him  in  the 
mountains  and  he  is  on  the  waters;  they  follow  him  on  the 
waters  and  he  is  on  the  open  sea;  then  they  pursue  him, 
and  he  lias  suddenly  taken  refuge  in  the  Isle  of  Giglio,  of 
Guanouti,  or  Monte  Cristo;  and  when  they  hunt  for  him 
there  he  reappears  suddenly  at  Albano,  Tivoli  or  La 
Riccia." 

"  And  how  does  he  behave  toward  travelers?" 

"  Alas!  his  plan  is  very  simple.  It  depends  on  the  dis- 
tance he  may  be  from  the  city,  whether  he  gives  eight 
hours,  twelve  hours,  or  a  day  wherein  to  pay  their  ransom; 
and  when  that  time  has  elapsed  he  allows  another  hour's 


THE  GO  UNT  OF  MONTE  CRTSTO.  355 

grace.  At  the  sixtieth  minute  of  this  hour,  if  the  money 
is  not  forthcoming,  he  blows  out  the  prisoner's  brains  with 
a  pistol  shot,  or  plants  his  dagger  in  his  heart  and  that 
settles  the  account." 

"  Well,  Albert/'  inquired  Franz  of  his  companion,  "  are 
you  still  disposed  to  go  to  the  Colosseum  by  the  outer 
boulevards?" 

"  Perfectly/'  said  Albert,  "  if  the  way  be  picturesque/' 
The  clock  struck  9  as  the  door  opened  and  a  coachman 
appeared. 

'  Excellencies,"  said  he,  "  the  coach  is  ready." 

Well,  then,"  said  Franz,  "let  us  to  the  Colosseum." 
'  By  the  Porta  del  Popolo  or  by  the  streets,  your  ex- 
cellencies?" 

By  the  streets,  morbleu!  by  the  streets!"  cried  Franz. 
Ah,  my  dear  fellow,"  said,  Albert,  rising,  and  lighting 
his  third  cigar,  "really,  I  thought  you  had  more  courage." 
So  saying,  the  two  young  men  went  down  the  staircase 
and  got  into  the  carriage. 


CHAPTER  XXXIV. 

THE   COLOSSEUM. 

FRANZ  had  so  managed  his  route  that  during  the  ride  to 
the  Colosseum  they  had  passed  not  a  single  ancient  ruin  so 
that  no  gradual  preparation  was  made  on  the  mind  for  the 
colossal  proportions  of  the  gigantic  building  they  came  to 
admire.  The  road  selected  was  a  continuation  of  the  Via 
Sistina;  then,  by  cutting  off  the  right  angle  of  the  street, 
in  which  stands  Santa  Maria  Maggiore,  and  proceeded  by 
the  Via  Urbana  and  San  Pietro  in  Vincoli,  the  travelers 
would  find  themselves  directly  opposite  the  Colosseum. 
This  itinerary  possessed  another  great  advantage — that  of 
leaving  Franz  at  full  liberty  to  indulge  his  deep  reverie 
upon  the  subject  of  the  story  recounted  by  Maitre  Pastrini, 
in  which  his  mysterious  host  of  the  Isle  of  Monte  Cristo 
was  so  strangely  mixed  up.  Seated  with  folded  arms  in 
the  corner  of  the  carriage  he  continued  to  ponder  over  the 
singular  history  he  had  so  lately  listened  to,  and  to  ask 
himself  an  interminable  number  of  questions  touching  its 


356  THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO. 

various  circumstances,  without,  however,  arriving  at  a  sat- 
isfactory reply  to  any  of  them.  One  fact  more  than  the 
rest  brought  his  friend,  "  Sinbad  the  Sailor,"  back  to  his 
recollection,  and  that  was  the  mysterious  sort  of  intimacy 
that  seemed  to  exist  between  the  brigands  and  the  sailors; 
and  Pastrini's  account  of  Vampa's  having  found  refuge  on 
board  the  vessels  of  smugglers  and  fishermen  reminded 
Franz  of  the  two  Corsican  bandits  he  had  found  supping  so 
amicably  with  the  crew  of  the  little  yacht,  which  had  even 
deviated  from  its  course  and  touched  at  Porto  Vecchio  for 
the  sole  purpose  of  landing  them.  The  very  name  assumed 
by  his  host  of  Monte  Cristo,  and  again  repeated  by  the 
landlord  of  the  H6tel  de  Londres,  abundantly  proved  to 
him  that  his  island  friend  was  playing  his  philanthropic 
part  equally  on  the  shores  of  Piombino,  Civita  Vecchia, 
Ostia  and  Gaeta,  as  on  those  of  Corsica,  Tuscany  and 
Spain;  and  further,  Franz  bethought  him  of  having  heard 
his  singular  entertainer  speak  both  of  Tunis  and  Palermo, 
proving  thereby  how  largely  his  circle  of  acquaintances 
extended. 

But,  however,  the  mind  of  the  young  man  might  be 
absorbed  in  these  reflections,  they  were  at  once  dispersed 
at  the  sight  of  the  dark  frowning  ruins  of  the  stupendous 
Colosseum,  through  the  various  openings  of  which  the  pale 
moonlight  played  and  flickered  like  the  unearthly  gleam  from 
the  eyes  from  the  wandering  dead.  The  carriage  stopped 
near  the  Meta  Sudans,  the  door  was  opened,  and  the 
young  men,  eagerly  alighting,  found  themselves  opposite  a 
cicerone,  who  appeared  to  have  sprung  up  from  the  ground, 
so  unexpected  was  his  appearance. 

The  usual  guide  from  the  hotel  having  followed  them, 
they  had  paid  two  conductors;  nor  is  it  possible,  at  Rome, 
to  avoid  this  abundant  supply  of  guides;  besides  the  or- 
dinary cicerone  who  seizes  upon  you  directly  you  set  foot 
in  your  hotel,  and  never  quits  you  while  you  remain  in  the 
city,  there  is  also  a  special  cicerone  belonging  to  each 
monument — nay,  almost  to  each  part  of  a  monument.  It 
may,  therefore,  be  easily  imagined  there  is  no  scarcity 
of  guides  at  the  Colosseum,  that  wonder  of  all  ages,  which 
Martial  thus  eulogises:  "  Let  Memphis  cease  to  boast  the 
barbarous  miracles  of  her  pyramids,  nor  the  wonders  of 
Babylon  be  talked  of  among  us;  all  must  bow  to  the 
euperiosity  of  the  gigantic  labors  of  the  Csesars,  and  the 


7 HE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO.  357 

many  voices  of  fame  spread  far  and  wide  the  surpassing 
merits  of  this  incomparable  monument. 

As  for  Albert  and  Franz,  they  essayed  not  to  escape 
from  their  Ciceronian  tyrants;  and,  indeed,  it  would  have 
been  so  much  the  more  difficult  to  break  their  bondage,  as 
the  guides  alone  are  permitted  to  visit  these  monuments 
with  torches  in  their  hands.  Thus,  then,  the  young  men 
made  no  attempt  at  resistance,  but  blindly  and  confidingly 
surrendered  themselves  into  the  care  and  custody  of  their 
conductors.  Albert  had  already  made  seven  or  eight 
similar  excursions  to  the  Colosseum,  while  his  less  favored 
companion  trod  for  the  first  time  in  his  life  the  classic 
ground  forming  the  monument  of  Flavius  Vespasian,  and, 
to  his  credit  be  it  spoken,  his  mind,  even  amid  the  glib 
loquacity  of  the  guides,  was  duly  and  deeply  touched  with 
awe  and  enthusiastic  admiration  of  all  he  saw;  and  cer- 
tainly no  adequate  notion  of  these  stupendous  ruins  can 
be  formed  save  by  such  as  have  visited  them,  and  more 
especially  by  moonlight,  at  which  time  the  vast  proportions 
of  the  building  appear  twice  as  large  when  viewed  by  the 
mysterious  beams  of  a  southern  moonlit  sky,  whose  rays 
are  sufficiently  clear  and  vivid  to  gild  the  horizon  with  a 
glow  equal  to  the  soft  twilight  of  an  eastern  clime. 
Scarcely,  therefore,  had  the  reflective  Franz  walked  a 
hundred  steps  beneath  the  interior  porticos  of  the  ruin, 
than,  abandoning  Albert  to  the  guides,  who  would  by  no 
means  yield  their  prescriptive  right  of  carrying  their 
victims  through  the  routine  regularly  laid  down  and  as 
regularly  followed  by  them,  but  dragged  the  unconscious 
visitor  to  the  various  objects  with  a  pertinacity  that  ad- 
mitted of  no  appeal;  beginning,  as  a  matter  of  course, 
with  the  Fosse  des  Lions  and  finishing  with  the  Podium 
des  Caesars.  To  escape  a  jargon  and  mechanical  survey  of 
the  wonders  by  whicli  he  was  surrounded,  Franz  ascended 
a  half-dilapidated  stair-case,  and,  leaving  them  to  follow 
their  monotonous  round,  seated  himself  at  the  foot  of  a 
column  and  immediately  opposite  a  large  chasm,  whicli 
permitted  him  to  enjoy  a  full  and  undisturbed  view  of  the 
gigantic  dimensions  of  this  majestic  ruin. 

Franz  had  remained  for  nearly  a  quarter  of  an  hour  per- 
fectly hidden  by  the  shadow  of  the  vast  column  at  whose 
base  he  had  found  a  resting  place,  and  from  whence  his 
eyes  followed  the  motions  of  Albert  and  his  guides,  who, 

DUMAS— VOL.  I.— 16 


358  1HE  CO  UNT  OF  MONTE  CRI8TO. 

holding  torches  in  their  hands,  had  emerged  from  a  vomi- 
tarium  placed  at  the  opposite  extremity  of  the  Colosseum, 
and  then  again  disappeared  down  the  steps  conducting  to 
the  seats  reserved  for  the  vestal  virgins,  resembling,  as 
they  glided  along,  some  restless  shades  following  the  flick- 
ering glare  of  so  many  ignes-fatui,  when  all  at  once  his 
ear  caught  a  sound  resembling  that  of  a  stone  rolling  down 
the  stair-case  opposite  the  one  by  which  he  had  himself 
ascended.  There  was  nothing  remarkable  in  the  circum- 
stance of  a  morsel  of  granite  giving  way  and  falling  heavily 
below,  but  it  seemed  to  him  that  the  substance  that  fell 
gave  way  beneath  the  pressure  of  a  foot,  and  also  that 
some  one,  who  endeavored  as  much  as  possible  to  prevent 
his  footsteps  from  being  heard,  was  approaching  the  spot 
where  he  sat.  Conjecture  soon  became  certainty,  for  the 
figure  of  a  man  was  distinctly  visible  to  Franz,  gradually 
emerging  from  the  stair-case  opposite,  upon  which  the 
moon  was  at  that  moment  pouring  a  full  tide  of  silvery, 
brightness. 

The  stranger  thus  presenting  himself  was  probably  a 
person  who  like  Franz,  preferred  the  enjoyment  of  solitude 
and  his  own  thoughts  to  the  frivolous  gabble  of  the  guides. 
And  his  appearance  had  nothing  extraordinary  in  it,  but 
the  hesitation  with  which  he  proceeded  onward,  stopping 
and  listening  with  anxious  attention  at  every  step  he  took, 
convinced  Franz  he  expected  the  arrival  of  some  person. 
By  a  sort  of  instinctive  impulse,  Franz  withdrew  as  much 
as  possible  behind  his  pillar.  About  ten  feet  from  the  spot 
where  himself  and  the  stranger  were  placed,  the  roof  had 
given  way,  leaving  a  large,  round  aperture  through  which 
might  be  seen  the  blue  vault  of  heaven  thickly  studded 
with  stars.  Around  this  opening,  which  had,  possibly, 
for  ages  permitted  a  free  entrance  to  the  brilliant  moon- 
beams that  now  illumined  the  vast  pile,  grew  a  quantity  of 
creeping  plants,  whose  delicate  green  branches  stood  out 
in  bold  relief  against  the  clear  azure  of  the  firmament, 
while  large  masses  of  thick,  strong,  fibrous  shoots  forced 
their  way  through  the  chasm  and  hung  floating  to  and  fro 
like  so  many  waving  striags.  The  person  whose  mysterious 
arrival  had  attracted  the  attention  of  Franz  stood  in  a 
kind  of  half-light,  that  rendered  it  impossible  to  distinguish 
his  features,  although  his  dress  was  easily  made  out.  He 
wore  a  large,  brown  mantle,  one  fold  of  which,  thrown 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRI8TO.  359 

over  his  left  shoulder,  served  likewise  to  mask  the  lowei 
part  of  his  countenance,  while  the  upper  part  was  com- 
pletely hidden  by  his  broad-brimmed  hat.  The  lower  part 
of  his  dress  was  more  distinctly  visible  by  the  bright  rays 
of  the  moon,  which,  entering  through  the  broken  ceiling, 
shed  their  refulgent  beams  on  feet  cased  in  elegantly-made 
boots  of  polished  leather,  over  which  descended  fashionably 
cut  trousers  of  black  cloth. 

From  the  imperfect  means  Franz  had  of  judging,  he 
could  only  come  to  one  conclusion — that  the  individual 
whom  he  was  thus  watching  certainly  belonged  to  no  in- 
ferior station  of  life.  Some  few  minutes  had  elapsed,  and 
the  stranger  began  to  show  manifest  signs  of  impatience, 
when  a  slight  noise  was  heard  outside  the  aperture  in  the 
roof,  and  almost  immediately  a  dark  shadow  seemed  to 
obstruct  the  flood  of  light  that  had  entered  it  and  the 
figure  of  a  man  was  clearly  seen  gazing  with  eager  scrutiny 
on  the  immense  space  beneath  him;  then,  as  his  eye  caught 
eight  of  the  individual  in  the  mantle,  he  grasped  a  floating 
mass  of  thickly-matted  boughs  and  glided  down  by  their 
help  to  within  three  or  four  feet  of  the  ground,  and  then 
leaped  lightly  on  his  feet.  The  man  who  had  performed 
this  daring  act  with  so  much  indifference  wore  the  costume 
of  Transtevere. 

"  I  beg  your  excellency's  pardon  for  keeping  you  wait- 
ing," said  the  man  in  the  Roman  dialect,  "  but  I  don't 
think  I'm  many  minutes  after  my  time;  10  o'clock  has  just 
struck  by  the  clock  of  St.  Jean  de  Latran." 

"  Say  not  a  word  about  being  late,"  replied  the  stranger 
in  purest  Tuscan;  "'tis  I  who  am  too  soon.  But  even  if 
you  had  caused  me  to  wait  a  little  while,  I  should  have  felt 
quite  sure  that  the  delay  was  not  occasioned  by  any  fault  of 
yours." 

"Your  excellency  is  perfectly  right  in  so  thinking,"  said 
the  man.  "  I  came  here  direct  from  the  Chdteau  Saiut- 
Ange,  and  I  had  an  immense  deal  of  trouble  before  I 
could  get  to  speak  to  Beppo." 

"And  who  is  Beppo?" 

"  Oh,  Beppo  is  employed  in  the  prison,  and  I  give  him 
so  much  a  year  to  let  me  know  what  is  going  on  within  his 
holiness'  chAteau." 

"Indeedl    You  are  a  provident  person,  I  see." 

"  Why,  you  see,  no  one  knows  what  may  happen.     Per- 


360  THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CE18TO. 

haps  some  of  these  days  I  may  be  entrapped,  like  poor 
Peppino,  and  may  be  very  glad  to  have  some  little,  nibbling 
mouse  to  gnaw  the  meshes  of  my  net  and  so  help  me  out  of 
prison." 

" Briefly,  what  did  you  glean?" 

"  That  two  executions  of  considerable  interest  will  take 
place  the  day  after  to-morrow  at  2  o'clock,  as  is  customary 
at  Rome  at  the  commencement  of  all  great  festivals.  One 
of  the  culprits  will  be  mazzolato;  he  is  an  atrocious  villian 
who  murdered  the  priest  who  brought  him  up,  and  deserves 
not  the  smallest  pity.  The  other  sufferer  is  sentenced  to 
be  decapitato;  and  he,  your  excellency,  is  poor  Pep- 
pin  o." 

"The  fact  is  that  you  have  inspired  not  only  the  ponti- 
fical government,  but  also  the  neighboring  states,  with 
such  extreme  fear  that  they  are  glad  of  an  opportunity  of 
making  an  example." 

"But  Peppino  did  not  even  belong  to  my  band;  he  was 
merely  a  poor  shepherd,  whose  only  crime  consisted  in  fur- 
nishing us  with  provisions." 

"  Which  makes  him  your  accomplice  to  all  intents  and 
purposes ;  but  mark  the  distinction  with  which  he  is 
treated;  instead  of  being  knocked  on  the  head,  as  you 
would  be  if  once  they  caught  hold  of  you,  he  is  simply 
sentenced  to  be  guillotined,  by  which  means,  too,  the 
amusements  of  the  day  are  diversified  and  there  is  a  spec- 
tacle to  please  every  spectator." 

"  Without  reckoning  the  wholly  unexpected  one  I  am 
preparing  to  surprise  them  with." 

"My  good  friend,"  said  the  man  in  the  cloak,  "  excuse 
me  for  saying  that  you  seern  to  me  precisely  in  the  mood  to 
commit  some  wild  or  extravagant  act." 

"Perhaps  I  am;  but  one  thing  I  have  resolved  on,  and 
that  is,  to  stop  at  nothing  to  restore  a  poor  devil  to  liberty, 
who  has  got  into  this  scrape  solely  from  having  served  me. 
I  should  hate  and  despise  myself  as  a  coward  did  I  desert 
the  brave  fellow  in  his  present  extremity." 

"  And  what  do  you  mean  \o  do?" 

"  To  surround  the  scaffold  with  twenty  of  my  best  men, 
who,  at  a  signal  from  me,  will  rush  forward  directly 
Peppino  is  brought  for  execution,  and,  by  the  assistance 
of  their  stilettoes,  drive  back  the  guard  and  carry  off  the 
prisoner." 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  GRI8TO.  361 

"  That  seems  to  me  as  hazardous  as  uncertain  and  oon- 
vinces  me  my  scheme  is  far  better  than  yours/' 

"  And  what  is  your  excellency's  project  ?" 

"Just  this!  I  will  so  advantageously  bestow  2,000 
piastres  that  the  person  receiving  them  shall  obtain  a 
respite  till  next  year  for  Peppino;  and,  during  that  year, 
another  skillfully  placed  1,000  piastres  shall  afford  him  the 
means  of  escaping  from  his  prison. " 

"And  do  you  feel  sure  of  succeeding?" 

"  Pardieu!"  exclaimed  the  man  in  the  cloak,  suddenly 
expressing  himself  in  French. 

"  What  did  your  excellency  say?"  inquired  the  other. 

"  I  said,  my  good  fellow,  that  I  would  do  more  single- 
handed  by  the  means  of  gold  than  you  and  all  your  troop 
could  effect,  with  stilettoes,  pistols,  carbines  and  blunder- 
buses  included.  Leave  me,  then,  to  act  and  have  no  fears 
for  the  result." 

"  At  least  there  can  be  no  harm  in  myself  and  party 
being  in  readiness,  in  case  your  excellency  should  fail." 

"None  whatever.  Take  what  precautions  you  please,  if 
it  is  any  satisfaction  to  you  to  do  so;  but  rely  upon  my 
obtaining  the  reprieve  I  seek." 

"  Remember,  the  execution  is  fixed  for  the  day  after  to- 
morrow and  that  you  have  but  one  day  to  work  in." 

"  And  what  then  ?  Is  not  a  day  divided  into  twenty- 
four  hours,  each  hour  into  sixty  minutes  and  every  minute 
sub-divided  into  sixty  seconds?  Now,  in  86,400  seconds 
very  many  things  can  be  done." 

"And  how  shall  I  know  whether  your  excellency  has 
succeeded  or  not?" 

"Oh!  that  is  very  easily  arranged  ;  I  have  engaged  the 
three  lower  windows  at  the  Cafe  Rospoli;  should  I  have 
obtained  the  requisite  pardon  for  Peppino  the  two  outside 
windows  will  be  hung^  with  yellow  damasks  and  the 
center  with  white,  having  a  large  cross  in  red  marked 
on  it." 

"And  whom  will  you  employ  to  carry  the  reprieve  to  the 
officer  directing  the  execution?" 

"  Send  one  of  your  men  disguised  as  a  penitent  friar 
and  I  will  give  it  to  him;  his  dress  will  procure  him  the 
means  of  approaching  the  scaffold  itself  and  will  deliver 
the  official  order  to  the  officer,  who,  in  his  turn,  will  hand 
it  to  the  executioner;  in  the  meantime,  it  will  be  as  well  to 


362  THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO. 

acquaint  Peppino  with  what  we  have  determined  on,  if  it 
be  only  to  prevent  his  dying  of  fear  or  losing  his  senses, 
because  in  either  case  a  very  useless  expense  will  have  been 
incurred." 

"  Your  excellency,"  said  the  man,  "you  are  fully  per- 
suaded of  my  entire  devotion  to  you,  are  you  not?" 

"  Nay,  I  flatter  myself  that  there  can  be  no  doubt  of  it," 
replied  the  cavalier  in  the  cloak. 

"Well,  then,  only  fulfill  your  promise  of  rescuing  Pep- 
pino and,  henceforward,  you  shall  receive  not  only  devoted- 
ness,  but  the  most  absolute  obedience  from  myself  and 
those  under  me  that  one  human  being  can  render  to 
another." 

"Have  a  care  how  far  you  pledge  yourself,  my  good 
friend,  for  I  may  remind  you  of  your  promise  at  some, 
perhaps,  not  very  distant  period,  when  I,  in  my  turn,  may 
require  your  aid  and  influence." 

"  Let  that  day  come,  sooner  or  later,  your  excellency 
will  find  me  what  I  have  found  you  in  this  my  heavy 
trouble;  and,  if  from  the  other  end  of  the  world  you  but 
write  me  word  to  do  such  or  such  a  thing,  conclude  it  done, 
for  done  it  shall  be,  on  the  word  and  faith  of " 

"Hush!"  interrupted  the  stranger;  "I  hear  a  noise." 

"  'Tis  some  travelers,  who  are  visiting  the  Colosseum  by 
torchlight." 

"'Twere  better  we  should  not  be  seen  together;  those 
guides  are  nothing  but  spies  and  might  possibly  recognize 
you;  and,  however  I  may  be  honored  by  your  friendship, 
my  worthy  friend,  if  once  the  extent  of  our  intimacy  were 
known,  I  am  sadly  afraid  both  my  reputation  and  credit 
would  suffer  thereby." 

'Well,  then,  if  you  obtain  the  reprieve?" 

'  The  middle  window  at  the  Cafe  Eospoli  will  be  hung 
with  white  damask,  bearing  on  it  a  red  cross." 
And  if  you  fail?" 

Then,  all  three  windows  will  have  yellow  draperies." 
And  then?" 

And  then,  my  good  fellow,  use  your  daggers  in  any 
way  you  please,  and  I  further  promise  you  to  be  there  as  a 
spectator  of  your  prowess." 

"All  is  then  understood  between  us.  Adieu,  your 
excellency,  depend  upon  me  as  firmly  as  I  do  upon  you/' 

Saying  these  words,  the  Transtevere  disappeared  down 


THE  CO  UNT  OF  MONTE  CRI8TO.  363 

the  staircase,  while  his  companion,  muffling  his  features 
more  closely  than  before  in  the  folds  of  his  mantle,  passed 
almost  close  to  Franz  and  descended  to  the  arena  by  an 
outward  flight  of  steps.  The  next  minute  Franz  heard 
himself  called  by  Albert,  who  made  the  lofty  building 
re-echo  with  the  sound  of  his  friend's  name.  Franz, 
however,  did  not  obey  the  summons  till  he  had  satisfied 
himself  the  two  individuals,  whose  conversation  he  had 
thus  surprised,  were  at  a  sufficient  distance  to  prevent  his 
encountering  them  in  his  descent,  not  wishing  that  they 
should  suspect  having  had  a  witness  to  their  discourse, 
who,  if  unable  to  recognize  their  faces,  had  at  least  heard 
every  word  that  passed.  In  ten  minutes  from  the  parting 
of  the  strangers  Franz  was  on  the  road  to  the  H6tel  d'Es- 
pagne,  listening  with  mortified  indifference  to  the  learned 
dissertation  delivered  by  Albert,  after  the  manner  of  Pliny 
and  Calpurnius,  touching  the  iron-pointed  nets  used  to 
prevent  the  ferocious  beasts  from  springing  on  the  specta- 
tors. Franz  let  him  proceed  without  interruption;  in  fact, 
he  heard  not  what  he  said;  he  longed  to  be  alone,  and 
able,  undisturbedly,  to  ponder  over  all  that  had  occurred. 
One  of  the  two  men,  whose  mysterious  rendezvous  in  the 
Colosseum  he  had  so  unintentionally  witnessed,  was  an 
entire  stranger  to  him,  but  not  so  the  other,  and,  though 
Franz  had  been  unable  to  distinguish  his  features  from 
his  being  either  wrapped  in  his  mantle  or  obscured  by  the 
shadow,  the  tones  of  his  voice  had  made  too  powerful  an 
impression  on  him  the  first  time  he  heard  them  for  him 
ever  again  to  forget  them,  hear  them  when  or  where  he 
might.  It  was  more  especially  when  speaking  in  a  manner 
half -jesting,  half-bitter,  that  Franz's  ear  recalled  most 
vividly  the  deep,  sonorous,  yet  well-pitched  voice,  that  had 
spoken  to  him  in  the  grotto  of  Monte  Cristo,  and  which 
he  heard  for  the  second  time  amid  the  darkness  and 
ruined  grandeur  of  the  Colosseum!  And  the  more  he 
thought,  the  more  entire  was  his  conviction,  that  the  indi- 
vidual in  the  mantle  was  no  other  than  his  former  host  and 
entertainer,  "Sinbad  the  Sailor." 

Under  any  other  circumstances  Franz  would  have  found 
it  impossible  to  resist  his  extreme  curiosity  to  know  more 
of  so  singular  a  personage,  and  with  that  intent  have 
sought  to  renew  their  short  acquaintance;  but  in  the  pres- 
ent instance  the  confidential  nature  of  the  conversation 


364  THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRI8TO. 

he  had  overheard  made  him  with  propriety  judge  that  hii 
appearance  at  such  a  time  would  be  anything  but  agree- 
able. As  we  have  seen,  therefore,  he  permitted  his  former 
host  to  retire  without  attempting  a  recognition;  but  fully 
promising  himself  a  rich  indemnity  for  his  present  for- 
bearance should  chance  afford  him  another  opportunity. 
In  vain  did  Franz  endeavor  to  forgeT  the  many  perplexing 
thoughts  which  assailed  him;  in  vain  did  he  court  the  re- 
freshment of  sleep.  Slumber  refused  to  visit  his  eyelids, 
and  his  night  was  passed  in  feverish  contemplation  of  the 
chain  of  circumstances  tending  to  prove  the  individuality 
of  the  mysterious  visitant  to  the  Colosseum  and  the  in- 
habitant of  the  grotto  of  Monte  Cristo;  and  the  more  he 
thought  the  firmer  grew  his  opinion  on  the  subject. 
Worn  out  at  length  he  fell  asleep  at  daybreak  and  did  not 
awake  till  late.  Like  a  genuine  Frenchman,  Albert  had 
employed  his  time  in  arranging  for  the  evening's  diver- 
sion; he  had  sent  to  engage  a  box  at  the  Teatro  Argentine, 
and  Franz,  having  a  number  of  letters  to  write,  relin- 
quished the  carriage  to  Albert  for  the  whole  of  the  day. 
At  5  o'clock  Albert  returned,  delighted  with  his  day's 
work;  he  had  been  occupied  in  leaving  his  letters  of  intro- 
duction, and  had  received  in  return  more  invitations  to 
balls  and  soirees  than  it  would  be  possible  for  him  to  ful- 
fill; besides  this,  he  had  seen  (as  he  called  it)  all  the  re- 
markable sights  at  Eome.  Yes,  in  a  single  day  he  had 
accomplished  what  his  more  reflective  companion  would 
have  taken  weeks  to  effect.  Neither  had  he  neglected  to 
ascertain  the  name  of  the  piece  to  be  played  that  night  at 
the  Teatro  Argentine,  and  also  what  performers  appeared 
in  it. 

The  opera  of  "  Parisina  "•  was  announced  for  representa- 
tion, and  the  principal  actors  were  Coselli,  Moriani  and 
La  Spech.  The  young  men,  therefore,  had  reason  to  con- 
sider themselves  fortunate  in  having  the  opportunity  of 
hearing  one  of  the  best  works  by  the  composer  of  "  Lucia 
di  Lammermoor,"  supported  by  three  of  the  most  re- 
nowned vocalists  of  Italy.  Albert  had  never  been  able  to 
endure  the  Italian  theaters  with  their  orchestras  from 
which  it  is  impossible  to  see  and  the  absence  of  balconies, 
or  open  boxes;  all  these  defects  pressed  hard  on  a  man 
who  had  had  his  stall  at  the  Opera  Buffa  and  his  share  in 
the  omnibus-box  at  the  Italian  Opera.  Still,  in  despite  of 


THE  CO  UNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO.  365 

this,  Albert  displayed  his  most  dazzling  and  effective  cos- 
tume each  time  he  visited  the  theaters;  but,  alas!  his  re- 
cherchee  toilet  was  wholly  thrown  away;  and  one  of  the 
most  worthy  representatives  of  Parisian  fashion  had  to 
carry  with  him  the  mortifying  reflection  of  having  nearly 
overrun  Italy  without  meeting  with  a  single  adventure. 

Sometimes  Albert  would  affect  to  make  a  joke  of  his 
want  of  success,  but  internally  he  was  deeply  wounded, 
and  his  self-love  immensely  piqued  to  think  that  Albert 
de  Morcerf,  the  most  admired  and  most  sought  after  of 
any  young  person  of  his  day,  should  thus  be  passed  over 
and  merely  have  his  labor  for  his  pains.  And  the  thing 
was  so  much  the  more  annoying,  as,  according  to  the 
characteristic  modesty  of  a  Frenchman,  Albert  had  quitted 
Paris  with  the  full  conviction  that  he  had  only  to  show 
himself  in  Italy  to  carry  all  before  him,  and  that  upon  his 
return  he  should  astonish  the  Parisian  world  with  the 
recital  of  his  numerous  love  affairs.  Alas!  poor  Albert, 
none  of  those  interesting  adventures  fell  in  his  way;  the 
lovely  Genoese,  Florentine  and  Neapolitan  females  were 
faithful,  if  not  to  their  husbands,  at  least  to  their  lovers, 
and  thought  not  of  changing  even  for  the  splendid  appear- 
once  of  Albert  de  Morcerf;  and  all  he  gained  was  the  pain- 
ful conviction  that  the  ladies  of  Italy  have  this  advantage 
over  those  of  France,  that  they  are  faithful  even  in  their 
infidelity.  Yet  he  could  not  restrain  a  hope  that  in  Italy, 
as  elsewhere,  there  might  be  an  exception  to  the  general 
rule.  Albert,  besides  being  an  elegant,  well-looking  young 
man,  was  also  possessed  of  considerable  talent  and  ability; 
moreover,  he  was  a  viscount — a  recently  created  one,  cer- 
tainly— but  in  the  present  day  it  is  not  necessary  to  go  as 
far  back  as  Noah  in  tracing  a  descent,  and  a  genealogical- 
tree  is  equally  estimated,  whether  dated  from  1399  or 
merely  1815;  but  to  crown  all  these  advantages  Albert  de 
Morcerf  commanded  an  income  of  50,000  livres  (£2,000), 
a  more  than  sufficient  sum  to  render  him  a  personage  of 
considerable  importance  in  Paris.  It  was,  therefore,  no 
small  mortification  to  him  to  have  visited  most  of  the 
principal  cities  in  Italy  without  having  excited  the  most 
trifling  observation.  Albert,  however,  hoped  to  indem- 
nify himself  for  all  these  slights  and  indifferences  during 
the  carnival,  knowing  full  well  that  among  the  different 
states  and  kingdoms  in  which  this  festivity  is  celebrated 


366  THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO. 

Rome  is  the  spot  where  even  the  wisest  and  gravest  throw 
off  the  usual  rigidity  of  their  lives  and  deign  to  mingle  in 
the  follies  of  this  time  of  liberty  and  relaxation. 

The  carnival  was  to  commence  on  the  morrow,  there- 
fore Albert  had  not  an  instant  to  lose  in  setting  forth  the 
programme  of  his  hopes,  expectations  and  claims  to  notice. 
With  this  design  he  had  engaged  a  box  in  the  most  con- 
spicuous part  of  the  theater  and  exerted  himself  to  set  off 
his  personal  attractions  by  the  aid  of  the  most  recherchee 
and  elaborate  toilet.  The  box  taken  by  Albert  was  in  the 
first  circle;  although  each  of  the  three  tiers  of  boxes  is 
deemed  equally  aristocratic,  and  is,  for  this  reason,  gener- 
ally styled  the  "  nobility  boxes,"  and  although  the  box 
engaged  for  the  two  friends  was  sufficiently  capacious  to 
contain  at  least  a  dozen  persons,  it  had  cost  less  than 
would  be  paid  at  some  of  the  French  theaters  for  one  ad- 
mitting merely  four  occupants.  Another  motive  had  in- 
fluenced Albert's  selection  of  his  seat — who  knew  but  that 
thus  advantageously  placed  he  could  not  fail  to  attract  the 
notice  of  some  fair  Roman,  and  an  introduction  might 
ensue  that  would  procure  him  the  offer  of  a  seat  in  a  car- 
riage or  a  place  in  a  princely  balcony  from  which  he 
might  behold  the  gayeties  of  the  carnival?  These  united 
considerations  made  Albert  more  lively  and  anxious  to 
please  than  he  had  hitherto  been.  Totally  disregarding 
the  business  of  the  stage,  he  leaned  from  bis  box  and  began 
attentively  scrutinizing  the  beauty  of  each  pretty  woman 
aided  by  a  powerful  lorgnette,  but,  alas,  this  attempt  to 
attract  similar  notice  wholly  failed;  not  even  curiosity  had 
been  excited;  and  it  was  but  too  apparent  that  the  lovely 
creatures  into  whose  good  graces  he  was  desirous  of  steal- 
ing were  all  so  much  engrossed  with  themselves,  their 
lovers  or  their  own  thoughts  that  they  had  not  so  much  as 
remarked  him  or  the  pointing  of  his  glass. 

The  truth  was,  that  the  anticipated  pleasures  of  the 
carnival,  with  the  "  holy  week "  that  was  to  succeed  it, 
so  filled  every  fair  breast,  as  to  prevent  the  least  attention 
being  bestowed  even  on  the  business  of  the  stage  ;  the 
actors  made  their  entries  and  exits  unobserved  or  un- 
thought  of;  at  certain  conventional  moments,  the  specta- 
tors would  suddenly  cease  their  conversation,  or  rouse 
themselves  from  their  musings  to  listen  to  some  brilliant 
effort  of  Moriaui's,  a  well-executed  recitative  by  Coselli,  or 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CEI8TO.  367 

to  join  in  loud  applause  at  the  wonderful  powers  of  La 
Spech;  but  that  momentary  excitement  over,  they  quickly 
relapsed  into  their  former  state  of  pre-occupation  or  inter- 
esting conversation.  Towards  the  close  of  the  first  act, 
the  door  of  a  box  which  had  been  hitherto  vacant  was 
opened;  a  lady  entered  to  whom  Franz  had  been  intro- 
duced in  Paris,  where,  indeed,  he  had  imagined  she  still 
was.  The  quick  eye  of  Albert  caught  the  involuntary 
start  with  which  his  friend  beheld  the  new  arrival,  and 
turning  to  him,  he  said  hastily — "Do  you  know  the 
female  who  has  just  entered  the  box  ?" 
'  Yes;  what  do  you  think  of  her  ?" 

Oh,  she  is  perfectly  lovely — what  a  complexion  !  And 
such  magnificent  hair  !  Is  she  French  ?" 

No;  a  Venetian." 

And  her  name  is " 

Countess  G ." 

Ah  !  I  know  her  by  name,"  exclaimed  Albert;  "she  is 
said  to  possess  as  much  wit  and  cleverness  as  beauty  !  I 
was  to  have  been  presented  to  her  when  I  met  her  at  Mme. 
Villefort's  ball." 

"  Shall  I  assist  you  in  repairing  your  negligence  ?"  asked 
Franz. 

"  My  dear  fellow,  are  you  really  on  such  good  terms 
with  her  as  to  venture  to  take  me  to  her  box?" 

"  Why,  I  have  only  had  the  honor  of  being  in  her  so- 
ciety and  conversing  with  her  three  or  four  times  in  my 
life;  but  you  know  that  even  such  an  acquaintance  as  that 
might  warrant  my  doing  what  you  ask."  At  this  instant, 
the  countess  perceived  Franz,  and  graciously  waved  her 
hand  to  him,  to  which  he  replied  by  a  respectful  inclina- 
tion of  tiie  head.  "  Upon  my  word,"  said  Albert,  "you 
seem  to  be  on  excellent  terms  with  the  beautiful  countess!" 
"  You  are  mistaken  in  thinking  so,"  returned  Franz, 
calmly;  "  but  you  merely  fall  into  the  same  error  which 
leads  so  many  of  our  countrymen  to  commit  the  most 
egregious  blunders,  I  mean  that  of  judging  the  habits  and 
customs  of  Italy  and  Spain  by  our  Parisian  notions;  believe 
me,  nothing  is  more  fallacious  than  to  form  any  estimate  of 
the  degree  of  intimacy  you  may  suppose  existing  among 
persons  by  the  familiar  terms  they  seem  upon  ;  there  is  a 
similarity  of  feeling  at  this  instant  between  ourselves  and 
the  countess — nothing  more." 


368  THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO. 

"  Is  there  indeed,  my  good  fellow  ?  Pray  tell  me  is  it 
sympathy  of  heart  ?" 

"  No;  of  taste  I"  continued  Franz,  gravely. 

"  And  in  what  manner  has  this  congeniality  of  mind 
been  evinced  ?" 

"  By  the  countess'  visiting  the  Colosseum,  as  we  did 
last  night,  by  moonlight,  and  nearly  alone." 

"  You  were  with  her,  then  ?" 

"I  was." 

"  And  what  did  you  say  to  her  ?" 

"  Oh  !  we  talked  mutually  of  the  illustrious  dead  of 
whom  that  magnificent  ruin  is  a  glorious  monument  I" 

"Upon  my  word  !"  cried  Albert,  "you  must  have  been 
a  very  entertaining  companion  alone,  or  all  but  alone,  with 
a  beautiful  woman  in  such  a  place  of  sentiment  as  the 
Colosseum,  and  yet  to  find  nothing  better  to  talk  about 
than  the  dead  !  All  I  can  say  is,  if  ever  I  should  get  such 
a  chance,  the  living  should  be  my  theme." 

"  And  you  will  probably  find  your  theme  ill-chosen." 

"But,"  said  Albert,  breaking  in  upon  his  discourse, 
"  never  mind  the  past,  let  us  only  remember  the  present  ! 
Are  you  not  going  to  keep  your  promise  of  introducing  me 
to  the  fair  subject  of  on  r  remarks  ?" 

"  Certainly,  directly  the  curtain  falls  on  the  stage  !" 

"  What  a  confounded  time  this  first  act  is  about  !  I  be- 
lieve, on  my  soul,  that  they  never  mean  to  finish  it  !" 

"  Oh,  yes  !  they  will !  only  listen  to  that  charming  finale! 
How  exquisitely  Coselli  sings  his  part  !" 

"  But  what  an  awkward,  inelegant  fellow  he  is  !" 

"  Well,  then,  what  do  you  say  to  La  Spech  ?  did  you 
ever  see  anything  more  perfect  than  her  acting  ?" 

"Why,  you  know,  my  dear  fellow,  when  one  has  been 
accustomed  to  Malibran  and  Sontag,  these  kind  of  singers 
don't  make  the  same  impression  on  you  they  perhaps  do 
on  others." 

"  At  least,  you  must  admire  Moriani's  style  and  execu- 
tion." 

"  I  never  fancied  men  of  his  dark,  ponderous  appearance 
singing  with  a  voice  like  a  woman's." 

"  My  good  friend,"  said  Franz,  turning  to  him,  while 
Albert  continued  to  point  his  glass  at  every  box  in  the 
theatre,  "you  seem  determined  not  to  approve;  you  are 
really  too  difficult  to  please." 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  GRI8TO.  369 

The  curtain  at  length  fell  on  the  performances,  to  the 
infinite  satisfation  of  the  Viscount  de  Morcerf,  who  seized 
his  hat  rapidly  passed  his  fingers  through  his  hair,  arranged 
his  cravat  and  wristbands,  and  signified  to  Franz  that  he 
was  waiting  for  him  to  lead  the  way.  Franz,  who  had 
mutely  interrogated  the  countess,  and  received  from  her  a 
gracious  smile  in  token  that  he  would  be  welcome,  sought 
not  to  retard  the  gratification  of  Albert's  eager  impatience, 
but  commenced  at  once  the  tour  of  the  house,  closely  fol- 
lowed by  Albert,  who  availed  himself  of  the  few  minutes 
it  occupied  to  reach  the  opposite  side  of  the  theater  to 
settle  the  height  and  smoothness  of  his  collar  and  to 
arrange  the  lappets  of  his  coat;  this  important  task  was 
just  completed  as  they  arrived  at  the  countess'  box;  at  the 
knock,  the  door  was  immediately  opened,  and  the  young 
man,  who  was  seated  beside  the  countess  in  the  front  of 
the  loge,  in  obedience  to  the  Italian  custom,  instantly  rose 
and  surrendered  his  place  to  the  strangers,  who,  in  turn, 
would  be  expected  to  retire  upon  the  arrival  of  other 
visitors. 

Franz  presented  Albert  as  one  of  the  most  distinguished 
young  men  of  the  day,  both  as  regarded  his  position  in  so- 
ciety aDd  extraordinary  talents;  nor  did  he  say  more  than 
the  truth,  for  in  Paris  and  the  circle  in  which  the  viscount 
moved,  he  was  looked  upon  and  cited  as  a  model  of  per- 
fection. Franz  added  that  his  companion,  deeply  grieved 
at  having  been  prevented  the  honor  of  being  presented  to 
the  countess  during  her  sojourn  in  Paris,  was  most  anxious 
to  make  up  for  it,  and  had  requested  him  (Franz)  to 
remedy  the  past  misfortune  by  conducting  him  to  her  box, 
and  concluded  by  asking  pardon  for  his  presumption  in 
having  taken  upon  himself  to  do  so.  The  countess,  in 
reply,  bowed  gracefully  to  Albert,  and  extended  her  hand 
with  cordial  kindness  to  Franz;  then  inviting  Albert  to 
take  the  vacant  seat  beside  her,  she  recommended  Franz 
to  take  the  next  best,  if  he  wished  to  view  the  ballet,  and 
pointed  to  the  one  behind  her  own  chair.  Albert  was  soon 
deeply  engrossed  in  discoursing  upon  Paris  and  Paris  mat- 
ters, speaking  to  the  countess  of  the  various  persons  they 
both  knew  there.  Franz  perceived  how  completely  he  was 
in  his  element;  and,  unwilling  to  interfere  with  the  pleas- 
ure he  so  evidently  felt,  took  up  Albert's  lorgnette,  and 
began  in  his  turn  to  survey  th  ?  audience.  Sitting  alone, 


370  THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO. 

in  the  front  of  a  box  immediately  opposite,  but  situated  on 
the  third  row,  was  a  female  of  exquisite  beauty,  dressed  in 
a  Greek  costume,  which  it  was  evident,  from  the  ease  and 
grace  with  which  she  wore  it,  was  her  national  attire. 
Behind  her,  but  iu  deep  shadow,  was  the  outline  of  a  male 
figure;  but  the  features  of  this  latter  personage  it  was  not 
possible  to  distinguish.  Franz  could  not  forbear  breaking 
in  upon  the  apparently  interesting  conversation  passing 
between  the  countess  and  Albert,  to  inquire  of  the  former 
if  she  knew  who  was  the  fair  Albanaise  opposite,  since 
beauty  such  as  her's  was  well  worthy  of  being  remarked  by 
either  sex. 

"All  I  can  tell  you  about  her,"  replied  the  countess,  "is, 
that  she  has  been  at  Some  since  the  beginning  of  the 
season;  for  I  saw  her  where  she  now  sits  the  very  first 
night  of  the  theater's  opening,  and  since  then  she  has 
never  missed  a  performance.  Sometimes  accompanied  by 
the  individual  who  is  with  her,  and  at  others  merely 
attended  by  a  black  servant/' 

"And  what  do  you  think  of  her  personal  appearance?" 

"  Oh  I  consider  her  perfectly  lovely— she  is  just  my  idea 
of  what  Medora  must  have  been." 

Franz  and  the  countess  exchanged  a  smile,  and  then  the 
latter  resumed  her  conversation  with  Albert,  while  Franz 
returned  to  his  previous  survey  of  the  house  and  company. 
The  curtain  rose  on  the  ballet,  which  was  one  of  those 
excellent  specimens  of  the  Italian  school,  admirably  ar- 
ranged and  put  on  the  stage  by  Henri,  who  has  established 
for  himself  a  great  reputation  throughout  Italy  for  his 
taste  and  skill  in  the  chorographic  art — one  of  those 
masterly  productions  of  grace,  method  and-  elegance  in 
which  the  whole  corps  de  ballet,  from  the  principal  dancers 
to  the  humblest  supernumery,  are  all  engaged  on  the  stage 
at  the  same  time;  and  150  persons  may  be.  seen  exhibiting 
the  same  attitude,  or  elevating  the  same  arm  or  leg  with  a 
simultaneous  movement,  that  would  lead  you  to  suppose 
but  one  mind,  one  act  of  volition,  influenced  the  moving 
mass;  the  ballet  was  called  "Poliska."  However  much  the 
ballet  might  have  claimed  his  attention,  Franz  was  too  deeply 
occupied  with  the  beautiful  Greek  to  take  any  note  of  it, 
while  she  seemed  to  experience  an  almost  childlike  delight 
in  watching  it ;  her  eager,  animated  looks,  contrasting 
strongly  with 'the  utter  indifference  of  her  companion,  who, 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRI8TO.  371 

during  the  whole  time  the  piece  lasted  never  even  moved, 
spite  of  the  furious,  crashing  din  produced  by  the  trum- 
pets, cymbals  and  Chinese  bells,  made  to  produce  their 
loudest  sound  from  the  orchestra.  The  apathetic  com- 
panion of  the  fair  Greek  took  no  heed  of  the  deafening 
sounds  that  prevailed,  but  was,  as  far  as  appearances  might 
be  trusted,  exjoying  soft  repose  and  bright,  celestial 
dreams.  The  ballet  at  length  came  to  a  close,  and  the 
curtain  fell  amid  the  loud,  unanimous  plaudits  of  an  en- 
thusiastic and  delighted  audience. 

Owing  to  the  very  judicious  plan  of  dividing  the  two  acts 
of  the  opera  with  a  ballet,  the  pauses  between  the  per- 
formances are  very  short;  the  singers  in  the  opera  having 
time  to  repose  themselves  and  change  their  costume,  when 
necessary,  while  the  dancers  are  executing  their  pirouettes, 
and  exhibiting  their  graceful  steps.  The  overture  to  the 
second  act  began;  and  at  the  first  sound  of  the  leader's 
bow  across  his  violin,  Franz  observed  the  sleeper  slowly 
arise  and  approach  the  Greek  girl,  who  turned  round  to 
say  a  few  words  to  him,  and  then,  leaning  forward  again 
on  her  box,  she  became  as  absorbed  as  before  in  what  was 
going  on.  The  countenance  of  the  person  who  had  ad- 
dressed her  remained  so  completely  in  the  shade,  that, 
though  Franz  tried  his  utmost,  he  could  not  distinguish 
a  single  feature.  The  curtain  drew  up,  and  the  attention 
of  Franz  was  attracted  by  the  actors;  and  his  eyes  quitted 
their  gaze  at  the  box  containing  the  Greek  girl  and  her 
strange  companion  to  watch  the  business  of  the  stage. 

Most  of  my  readers  are  aware  that  the  second  act  of 
"  Parisina"  opens  with  the  celebrated  and  effected  duet  in 
which  Parisina,  while  sleeping,  betrays  to  Azzo  the  secret 
of  her  love  for  Ugo.  The  injured  husband  goes  through 
all  the  workings  of  jealousy,  until  conviction  seizes  on  his 
mind,  and  then,  in  a  frenzy  of  rage  and  indignation,  he 
awakens  his  guilty  wife  to  tell  her  he  knows  her  guilt, 
and  to  threaten  her  with  his  vengeance.  This  duet  is 
one  of  the  finest  conceptions  that  has  ever  emanated  from 
the  fruitful  pen  of  Donizetti.  Franz  now  listened  to  it 
for  the  third  time;  yet  its  notes,  so  tenderly  expressive 
and  fearfully  grand,  as  the  wretched  husband  and  wife  give 
vent  to  their  different  griefs  and  passions,  thrilled  through 
the  soul  of  Franz  with  an  effect  equal  to  his  first  emotions 
upon  hearing  it. 


372  THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO. 

Excited  beyond  his  usual  calm  demeanor,  Franz  rose  with 
the  audience  and  was  about  to  join  the  loud  enthusiastic 
applause  that  followed;  but  suddenly  his  purpose  was  ar- 
rested, his  hands  fell  by  his  sides,  and  the  half-uttered 
"bravos"  expired  on  his  lips.  The  occupant  of  the  box 
in  which  the  Greek  girl  sat  appeared  to  share  the  universal 
admiration  that  prevailed,  for  he  left  his  seat  to  stand  up 
in  the  front,  so  that,  his  countenance  being  fully  revealed, 
Franz  had  no  difficulty  in  recognizing  him  as  the  mysteri- 
ous inhabitant  of  Monte  Cristo,  and  the  very  same  indi- 
vidual he  had  encountered  the  preceding  evening  in  the 
ruins  of  the  Colosseum,  and  whose  voice  and  figure  had 
seemed  so  familiar  to  him.  All  doubt  of  his  identity  was 
now  at  an  end;  his  singular  host  evidently  resided  at  Rome. 
The  surprise  and  agitation  occasioned  by  this  full  confirma- 
tion of  Franz's  former  suspicion  had  no  doubt  imparted  a 
corresponding  expression  to  his  features;  for  the  countess, 
after  gazing  with  a  puzzled  look  on  his  speaking  counten- 
ance, burst  into  a  fit  of  laughter,  and  begged  to  know  what 
had  happened. 

"Mme.  la  Comtesse,"  returned  Franz,  totally  un- 
heeding her  raillery,  "  I  asked  you  a  short  time  since  if 
you  knew  any  particulars  respecting  the  Albanian  lady 
opposite;  I  must  now  beseech  you  to  inform  me  who  and 
what  is  her  husband?" 

"Nay,"  answered  the  countess,  "1  know  no  more  of 
him  than  yourself." 

"Perhaps  you  never  before  remarked  him?" 

"  What  a  question — so  truly  French!  Do  you  not  know 
that  we  Italians  have  eyes  only  for  the  man  we  love?" 

"True,"  replied  Franz. 

"All  I  can  say,"  countinued  the  countess,  taking  tip  the 
lorgnette,  and  directing  it  to  the  box  in  question,  "  is,  that 
the  gentleman,  whose  history  I  am  unable  to  furnish,  seems 
to  me  as  though  he  had  just  been  dug  up;  he  looks  more 
like  a  corpse  permitted  by  some  friendly  grave-digger  to  quit 
his  tomb  for  awhile,  and  revisit  this  earth  of  ours,  than 
anything  human.  How  ghastly  pale  he  is!" 

"Oh,  he  is  always  as  colorless  as  you  now  see  him,"  said 
Franz. 

' '  Then  you  know  him  ?"  almost  screamed  the  countess. 
"Oh!  pray  do,  for  heaven's  sake,  tell  us  all  about  him — is 
he  a  vampire,  or  a  resuscitated  corpse,  or  what?" 


THE  CO  UNT  OF  MONTE  CRI8TO.  378 

"  I  fancy  I  have  seen  him  before;  and  I  even  think  he 
recognizes  me." 

"And  I  can  well  understand/'  said  the  countess,  shrug- 
ging up  her  beautiful  shoulders  as  though  an  involuntary 
shudder  passed  through  her  veins,  "  that  those  who  have 
once  seen  that  man  will  never  be  likely  to  forget  him." 

"  The  sensation  experienced  by  Franz  was  evidently  not 
peculiar  to  himself;  another,  and  wholly  uninterested 
person,  felt  the  same  unaccountable  awe  and  misgiving. 

"  Well,"  inquired  Franz,  after  the  countess  had  a  second 
time  directed  her  lorgnette  at  the  loge  of  their  mysterious 
vis-a-vis,  "  what  do  you  think  of  our  opposite  neighbor?" 

"  Why,  that  he  is  no  other  than  Lord  Ruthveu  himself 
in  a  living  form." 

This  fresh  allusion  to  Byron  drew  a  smile  to  Franz's 
countenance;  although  he  could  but  allow  that  if  anything 
was  likely  to  induce  belief  in  the  existence  of  vampires,  it 
would  be  the  presence  of  such  a  man  as  the  mysterious  per- 
sonage before  him. 

"I  must  positively  find  out  who  and  what  he  is,"  said 
Franz,  rising  from  his  seat. 

"  No,  nor  cried  the  countess,  "  you  must  not  leave  me. 
I  depend  upon  you  to  escort  me  home.  Oh,  indeed,  I  can- 
not permit  you  to  go." 

"  Is  it  possible,"  whispered  Franz,  "  that  you  entertain 
any  fear?*' 

"  I'll  tell  you,"  answered  the  countess.  "  Byron  had  the 
most  perfect  belief  in  the  existence  of  vampires,  and  even 
assured  me  he  had  seen  some.  The  description  he  gave 
me  perfectly  corresponds  with  the  features  and  character 
of  the  man  before  us.  Oh!  it  is  the  exact  personification 
of  what  I  have  been  led  to  expect.  The  coal-black  hair, 
large,  bright,  glittering  eyes,  in  which  a  wild,  unearthly 
fire  seems  burning;  the  same  ghastly  paleness.  Then  ob- 
serve, too,  that  the  very  female  he  has  with  him  is  altogether 
unlike  all  others  of  her  sex.  She  is  a  foreigner — a  stranger. 
Nobody  knows  who  she  is  or  where  she  comes  from.  No 
doubt  she  belongs  to  the  same  horrible  race  he  does,  and 
is,  like  himself,  a  dealer  in  magical  arts.  I  entreat  of  you 
not  to  go  near  him — at  least  to-night;  and  if  to-morrow 
your  curiosity  still  continues  as  great,  pursue  your  re- 
searches if  you  will,  but  to-night  you  neither  can  nor  shall. 
For  that  purpose,  I  mean  to  keep  you  all  to  myself." 


374  THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO. 

Franz  protested  he  could  not  defer  his  pursuit  till  the 
following  day  for  many  reasons. 

"  Listen  to  me,"  said  the  countess,  "  and  do  not  be  so 
very  headstrong.  I  am  going  home.  I  have  a  party  at 
my  house  to-night,  and,  therefore,  cannot  possibly  remain 
till  the  conclusion  of  the  opera.  Now,  I  cannot  for  one 
instant  believe  you  so  devoid  of  gallantry  as  to  refuse  a 
lady  your  escort  when  she  even  condescends  to  ask  you  for 

There  was  nothing  else  left  for  Franz  to  do  but  to  take 
up  his  hat,  open  the  door  of  the  loge  and  offer  the  countess 
his  arm.  It  was  quite  evident,  by  the  countess'  manner, 
that  her  uneasiness  was  not  feigned,  and  Franz  himself 
could  not  resist  a  species  of  superstitious  dread — so  much 
the  stronger  in  him  as  it  arose  from  a  variety  of  corrobor- 
ating recollections,  while  the  terror  of  the  countess  sprang 
from  an  instinctive  feeling,  originally  created  in  her  mind 
by  the  wild  tales  she  had  listened  to  till  she  believed  them 
truths.  Franz  could  even  feel  her  arm  tremble  as  he 
assisted  her  into  the  carriage.  Upon  arriving  at  her  hotel 
Franz  perceived  that  she  had  deceived  him  when  she 
spoke  of  expecting  company;  on  the  contrary;  her  own 
return  before  the  appointed  hour  seemed  greatly  to  aston- 
ish the  domestics. 

"  Excuse  my  little  subterfuge,"  said  the  countess,  in 
reply  to  her  companion's  half -reproachful  observation  on 
the  subject;  "  but  that  horrid  man  had  made  me  feel 
quite  uncomfortable,  and  I  longed  to  be  alone  that  I  might 
compose  my  startled  mind." 

Franz  essayed  to  smile. 

"  Nay/'  said  she,  "smile  not;  it  ill  accords  with  the  ex- 
pression of  your  countenance,  and  I  am  sure  it  springs  not 
from  your  heart.  However,  promise  me  one  thing." 

"  What  is  it?" 

"  Promise  me,  I  say." 

"  I  will  do  anything  you  desire  except  relinquish  my 
determination  of  finding  out  who  this  man  is.  I  have 
more  reasons  than  you  can  imagine  for  desiring  to  know 
who  he  is,  from  whence  he  came,  and  whither  he  is 
going." 

"  Where  he  comes  from  I  am  ignorant,  but  I  can  readily 
tell  you  where  he  is  going  to,  and  that  is  down  below, 
without  the  least  doubt." 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRI8TO.  375 

"  Let  us  only  speak  of  the  promise  you  wished  me  to 
make,"  said  Franz. 

"  Well,  then,  you  must  give  me  your  word  to  return 
immediately  to  your  hotel  and  make  no  attempt  to  follow 
this  man  to-night.  There  are  certain  affinities  between 
the  persons  we  quit  and  those  we  meet  afterward.  For 
heaven's  sake  do  not  serve  as  a  conductor  between  that  man 
and  me.  Pursue  your  chase  after  him  to-morrow  as 
eagerly  as  you  please,  but  never  bring  him  near  me  if  you 
would  not  see  me  die  of  terror.  And  now,  good-night; 
retire  to  your  apartments  and  try  to  sleep  away  all  recol- 
lections of  this  evening.  For  my  own  part,  I  am  quite 
sure  I  shall  not  be  able  to  close  my  eyes." 

So  saying,  the  countess  quitted  Franz,  leaving  him 
unable  to  decide  whether  she  were  merely  amusing  herself 
at  his  expense  or  that  her  fears  and  agitations  were 
genuine. 

Upon  his  return  to  the  hotel  Franz  found  Albert  in  his 
dressing-gown  and  slippers,  listlessly  extended  on  a  sofa, 
smoking  a  cigar. 

"  My  dear  fellow!"  cried  he,  springing  up,  "  is  it  really 
you?  Why,  I  did  not  expect  to  see  you  before  to- 
morrow." 

"  My  dear  Albert,"  replied  Franz,  "  I  am  glad  of  this 
opportunity  to  tell  you,  once  and  forever,  that  you  enter- 
tain a  most  erroneous  notion  concerning  Italian  females. 
I  should  have  thought  the  continual  failures  you  have  met 
with  in  all  your  own  love  affairs  might  have  taught  you 
better  by  this  time." 

"Upon  my  soul!  these  women  would  puzzle  the  very 
devil  to  read  them  aright.  Why,  here  they  give  you  their 
hand — they  press  yours  in  return — they  keep  up  a  whis- 
pering conversation — permit  you  to  accompany  them  home! 
Why,  if  a  Parisian  were  to  indulge  in  a  quarter  of  these 
marks  of  nattering  attention  her  reputation  would  be  gone 
forever." 

"  And  the  very  reason  why  the  females  of  this  fine 
country  put  so  little  restraint  on  their  words  and  actions  is 
because  they  live  so  much  in  public,  and  have  really  noth- 
ing to  conceal.  Besides,  you  must  have  perceived  that  the 
countess  was  really  alarmed." 

"  At  what?  At  the  sight  of  that  respectable  gentleman 
sitting  opposite  to  us  in  the  same  loge  as  the  lovely  Greek 


370  THE  CO  UNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO. 

girl?  Now,  for  my  part,  I  met  them  in  the  lobby  after  the 
conclusion  of  the  piece,  and  hang  me  if  I  can  guess  where 
you  took  your  notions  of  the  other  world  from!  I  can 
assure  you  that  this  hobgoblin  of  yours  is  a  deuced  fine- 
looking  fellow,  admirably  dressed.  Indeed,  I  feel  quite 
sure,  from  the  cut  of  his  clothes,  they  are  made  by  a  first- 
rate  Paris  tailor — probably  Blin  or  Humann.  He  was 
rather  too  pale,  certainly,  but  then,  you  know,  paleness  is 
always  looked  upon  as  a  strong  proof  of  aristocratical 
descent  and  distinguished  breeding." 

Franz  smiled,  for  he  well  remembered  that  Albert  par- 
ticularly prided  himself  on  the  entire  absence  of  color  in 
his  own  complexion. 

"  Well,  that  tends  to  confirm  my  own  ideas/'  said 
Franz,  "  that  the  countess'  suspicions  were  destitute  alike 
of  sense  and  reason.  Did  he  speak  in  your  hearing,  and 
did  you  catch  any  of  his  words?" 

"  I  did,  but  they  were  uttered  in  the  Eomaic  dialect.  I 
knew  that  from  the  mixture  of  Greek  words.  I  don't  know 
whether  I  ever  told  you  that  when  I  was  at  college  I  was 
rather — rather  strong  in  Greek." 

"He  spoke  the  Romaic  language,  did  he?" 

"  I  think  so." 

"  That  settles  it,"  murmured  Franz.  "  'Tis  he,  past  all 
doubt." 

"  What  do  you  say?" 

"  Nothing,  nothing.  But  tell  me,  what  were  you  think- 
ing about  when  I  came  in?" 

"  Oh,  I  was  arranging  a  little  surprise  for  you." 

"  Indeed!    Of  what  nature?" 

"  Why,  you  know  it  is  quite  impossible  to  procure  a  car- 
riage?" 

"  Certainly,  and  I  also  know  that  we  have  done  all  that 
human  means  afforded  to  endeavor  to  get  one." 

"  Now,  then,  in  this  difficulty,  a  bright  idea  has  flashed 
across  my  brain." 

Franz  looked  at  Albert  as  though  he  had  not  much  con- 
fidence in  the  suggestions  of  his  imagination. 

"  I  tell  you  what,  M.  Franz  !"  cried  Albert ;  "  you  de- 
serve to  be  called  out  for  such  a  misgiving  and  incredulous 
glance  as  that  you  were  pleased  to  bestow  on  me  just 
now." 

"And  I  promise  to  give  you  the  satisfaction  of  a  gentle- 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRI810.  377 

man  if  your  scheme  turns  out  as  ingenious  as  you 
assert." 

•<  Well,  then,  hearken  to  me." 

"I  listen." 

"  You  agree,  do  you  not,  that  obtaining  a  carriage  is  out 
of  the  question?" 

"I  do." 

"  Neither  can  we  procure  horses?" 

"True  ;  we  have  offered  any  sums,  but  have  failed." 

"  Well,  now,  what  do  you  say  to  a  cart?  I  dare  say  such 
a  thing  might  be  had." 

"Very  possibly." 

"And  a  pair  of  oxen?" 

"As  easily  found  as  the  cart." 

"  Then  you  see,  my  good  fellow,  with  a  cart  and  a  couple 
of  oxen  our  business  can  be  managed.  The  cart  must  be 
tastefully  ornamented  ;  and  if  you  and  I  dress  ourselves  as 
Neapolitan  reapers,  we  may  get  up  a  striking  tableau,  after 
the  manner  of  that  splendid  picture  by  Leopold  Robert. 
It  would  add  greatly  to  the  effect  if  the  countess  would 
join  us  in  the  costume  of  a  peasant  from  Puzzoli  or  Sorento. 
Our  group  would  then  be  quite  complete,  more  especially 
as  the  countess  is  quite  beautiful  enough  to  represent  the 
'Mother  with  Child.'" 

"Well,"  said  Franz,  "this  time,  M.  Albert,  I  am  bound 
to  give  you  credit  for  having  hit  upon  a  most  capital 
idea." 

"And  quite  a  national  one,  too,"  replied  Albert,  with 
gratified  pride.  "A  mere  mask  borrowed  from  our  own 
festivities.  Ha  !  ha  !  Messieurs  les  Romains  ;  you  thought 
to  make  us,  unhappy  strangers,  trot  at  the  heels  of  your 
processions,  like  so  many  lazzaroni,  because  no  carriages  or 
horses  are  to  be  had  in  your  beggarly  city.  But  yon  don't 
know  us;  when  we  can't  have  one  thing  we  invent 
another." 

"And  have  you  communicated  your  triumphant  idea  to 
any  person?" 

"Only  to  our  host.  Upon  my  return  home  I  sent  to  de- 
sire he  would  come  to  me,  and  I  then  explained  to  him 
what  I  wished  to  procure.  He  assured  me  that  nothing 
would  be  easier  than  to  furnish  all  I  desired.  One  thing  I 
was  sorry  for  ;  when  I  bade  him  have  the  horns  of  the 
oxen  gilded,  he  told  me  there  would  not  be  time,  as  it 


378  THE  CO  UNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO. 

would  require  three  days  to  effect  that ;  BO  you  see  we  must 
do  without  this  little  superfluity." 

"And  where  is  he  now?" 

"Who?" 

"Our  host." 

"Gone  out  in  search  of  our  equipage ;  by  to-morrow  it 
might  be  too  late." 

"  Then  he  will  be  able  to  give  us  an  answer  to-night." 

"Oh,  I  expect  him  every  minute." 

At  this  instant  the  door  opened,  and  the  head  of  Maitre 
Pastrini  appeared. 

"  Permesso  ?"  inquired  he. 

"Certainly — certainly,"  cried  Franz.  "Come  in,  mine 
host." 

"  Now,  then,"  asked  Albert,  eagerly ;  "  have  you  found 
the  desired  cart  and  oxen?" 

"  Better  than  that !"  replied  the  Maitre  Pastrini,  with 
the  air  of  a  man  perfectly  well  satisfied  with  himself. 

"Take  care,  my  worthy  host,"  said  Albert,  "better  is  a 
sure  enemy  to  well." 

"  Let  your  excellencies  only  leave  the  matter  to  me," 
returned  Maitre  Pastrini,  in  a  tone  indicative  of  unbounded 
self-confidence. 

"  But  what  have  you  done?"  asked  Franz.  "  Speak  out, 
there's  a  worthy  fellow." 

"Your  excellencies  are  aware,"  responded  the  landlord, 
swelling  with  importance,  "  that  the  Count  of  Monte 
Cristo  is  living  on  the  same  floor  with  yourselves  !" 

"  I  should  think  we  did  know  it,"  exclaimed  Albert, 
"  since  it  is  owing  to  that  circumstance  that  we  are  packed 
into  these  small  rooms,  like  two  poor  students  in  the  back 
streets  of  Paris." 

"  "Well,  then,  the  Count  of  Monte  Cristo,  hearing  of  the 
dilemma  in  which  you  are  placed,  has  sent  to  offer  you 
seats  in  his  carriage  and  two  places  at  his  windows  in  the 
Rospoli  Palace." 

The  friends  looked  at  each  other  with  utterable  surprise. 

"  But  do  you  think,"  asked  Franz,  "  that  we  ought  to 
accept  such  offers  from  a  perfect  stranger?" 

"  What  sort  of  person  is  this  Count  of  Monte  Cristo?" 
asked  Franz  of  his  host. 

"A  very  great  nobleman,  but  whether  Maltese  or  Sicilian 
I  cannot  exactly  say  ;  but  this  I  know,  that  he  is  noble  as 
a  Borghese  and  rich  as  a  gold  mine." 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO.  379 

"  It  seems  to  me,"  said  Franz,  speaking  in  an  undertone 
to  Albert,  "that  if  this  individual  merited  the  high 
panegyrics  of  our  landlord,  he  would  have  conveyed  his  in- 
vitation through  another  channel,  and  not  permitted  it  to 
be  brought  to  us  in  this  unceremonious  way.  He  would 
have  written — or " 

At  this  instant  some  one  knocked  at  the  door. 

"Come  in  V  said  Franz. 

A  servant,  wearing  a  livery  of  considerable  style  and 
richness,  appeared  at  the  threshold,  and  placing  two  cards 
in  the  landlord's  hands,  who  forthwith  presented  them  to 
the  two  young  men,  he  said:  "  Please  to  deliver  these,  from 
M.  le  Comte  de  Monte  Cristo,  to  M.  le  Vicomte  Albert  de 
Morcerf  and  M.  Franz  Epinay.  M.  le  Comte  de  Monte 
Cristo,"  continued  the  servant,  "begs  these  gentlemen's 
permission  to  wait  upon  them  as  their  neighbor,  and  he 
will  be  honored  by  an  intimation  of  what  time  they  will 
please  to  receive  him." 

"  Faith,  Franz,"  whispered  Albert,  "  there  is  not  much 
to  find  fault  with  here." 

"  Tell  the  count,"  replied  Franz,  "that  we  will  do  our- 
selves the  pleasure  of  calling  on  him." 

The  servant  bowed  and  retired. 

"That  is  what  I  call  an  elegant  mode  of  attack,"  said 
Albert.  "  You  were  quite  correct  in  what  you  stated, 
Maitre  Pastrini.  The  Count  of  Monte  Cristo  is  unques- 
tionably a  man  of  first-rate  breeding  and  knowledge  of  the 
world." 

"  Then  you  accept  his  offer?"  said  the  host. 

"  Of  course  we  do,"  replied  Albert.  "  Still,  I  must  own 
I  am  sorry  to  be  obliged  to  give  up  the  cart  and  the  group 
of  reapers — it  would  have  produced  such  an  effect  I  And 
were  it  not  for  the  windows  at  the  Palace  Eospoli,  by  way 
of  recompense  for  the  loss  of  our  beautiful  scheme,  I  don  t 
know  but  what  I  should  have  held  on  by  my  original  plan. 
What  say  you,  Franz? ; 

"Oh,  I  agree  with  you;  the  windows  in  the  Palace 
Rospoli  alone  decided  me." 

The  truth  was,  that  the  mention  of  two  places  in  the 
Palace  Rospoli  had  recalled  to  Franz's  mind  the  conversa- 
tion he  had  overheard  the  preceding  evening  in  the  ruins 
of  the  Colosseum  between  the  mysterious  unknown  and  the 
Traustevere,  in  which  the  stranger  in  the  cloak  had  un- 


380  THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  VRISTO. 

dertaken  to  obtain  the  freedom  of  a  condemned  criminal ; 
and  if  this  muffled-up  individual  proved  (as  Franz  felt  sure 
he  would)  the  same  as  the  person  he  had  just  seen  in  the 
Teatro  Argentino,  then  he  should  be  able  to  establish  his 
identity,  and  also  to  prosecute  his  researches  respecting 
him  with  perfect  facility  and  freedom.  Franz  passed  the 
night  in  confused  dreams  respecting  the  two  meetings  he 
had  already  had  with  his  mysterious  tormentor,  and  in 
waking  speculations  as  to  what  the  morrow  would  produce. 
The  next  day  must  clear  up  every  doubt,  and  unless  his 
near  neighbor  and  would-be  friend,  the  Count  of  Monte 
Cristo,  possessed  the  ring  of  Gyges,  and  by  its  power  were 
able  to  render  himself  invisible,  it  was  very  certain  he 
could  not  escape  this  time.  Eight  o'clock  found  Franz  up 
and  dressed,  while  Albert,  who  had  not  the  same  motives 
for  early  rising,  was  still  profoundly  asleep.  The  first  act 
of  Franz  was  to  summon  his  landlord,  who  presented  him- 
self with  his  accustomed  obsequiousness. 

"Pray,  Maitre  Pastrini,"  asked  Franz,  "is  not  some 
execution  appointed  to  take  place  to-day  ?" 

"Yes,  your  excellency;  but  if  your  reason  for  inquiry  is 
that  you  may  procure  a  window  to  view  it  from,  you  are 
much  too  late. 

"  Oh,  no  I"  answered  Franz,  "  I  had  no  such  'intention; 
and  even  if  I  had  felt  a  wish  to  witness  the  spectacle  I 
might  have  done  so  from  Monte  Pincio — could  I  not  ?" 

"  Ah  I"  exclaimed  mine  host,  "  I  did  not  think  it  likely 
your  excellence  would  have  chosen  to  mingle  with  such  a 
rabble  as  are  always  collected  on  that  hill,  which,  indeed, 
they  consider  as  exclusively  belonging  to  themselves." 

"Very  possibly  I  may  not  go," answered  Franz;  "but in 
case  I  feel  disposed,  give  me  some  particulars  of  to-day's 
executions." 

"  What  particulars  would  your  excellency  like  to  hear  ?" 

"  Why,  the  number  of  persons  condemned  to  suffer,  their 
names  and  description  of  the  death  they  are  to  die." 

"  That  happens  just  lucky,  your  excellence  !  Only  a  few- 
minutes  ago  they  brought  me  the  tavolettas." 

"What  are  they?" 

"  Sort  of  wooden  tablets  hung  up  at  the  corners  of 
streets  the  evening  before  an  execution,  on  which  is  pasted 
up  a  paper  containing  the  names  of  the  condemned  per- 
sons, their  crimes  and  mode  of  punishment.  The  reason 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CR18TO.  381 

for  so  publicly  announcing  all  this  is,  that  all  good  and 
faithful  Catholics  may  offer  up  their  prayers  for  the  unfort- 
unate culprits,  and  above  all,  beseech  of  heaven  to  grant 
them  a  sincere  repentance." 

"  And  these  tablets  are  brought  to  you  that  you  may 
add  your  prayers  to  those  of  the  faithful,  are  they  ?"  asked 
Franz,  somewhat  incredulously. 

"  0,  dear,  no,  your  excellence;  I  have  not  time  for  any- 
body's affairs  but  my  own  and  those  of  my  honorable 
guests;  but  I  make  an  agreement  with  the  man  who  pastes 
up  the  papers,  and  he  brings  them  to  me  as  he  would  the 
playbills,  that  in  case  any  person  staying  at  my  hotel  should 
like  to  witness  an  execution,  he  may  obtain  every  requisite 
information  concerning  the  time  and  place,  etc." 

"  Upon  my  word,  that  is  most  delicate  attention  on  your 
part,  Maitre  Pastrini  I"  cried  Franz. 

"  Why,  your  excellence,"  returned  the  landlord,  chuck- 
ling and  rubbing  his  hands  with  infinite  complacency,  "  I 
think  I  may  take  upon  myself  to  say  I  neglect  nothing  to 
deserve  the  support  and  patronage  of  the  noble  visitors  to 
this  poor  hotel." 

"  I  see  that  plainly  enough,  my  most  excellent  host,  and 
you  may  rely  upon  my  repeating  so  striking  a  proof  of 
your  attention  to  your  guests  wherever  I  go.  Meanwhile, 
oblige  me  by  a  sight  of  one  of  these  tavolettas." 

"Nothing  can  bo  easier  than  to  comply  with  your  ex- 
cellency's wish,"  said  the  landlord,  opening  the  door  of 
the  chamber;  "  I  have  caused  one  to  be  placed  on  the  land- 
ing, close  by  your  apartment." 

Then  taking  the  tablet  from  the  wall  he  handed  it  to 
Franz,  who  read  as  follows  : 

"  The  public  is  informed  that  on  Wednesday,  February 
23,  being  the  first  day  of  the  carnival,  two  executions  will 
take  place  in  the  Place  del  Popolo,  by  order  of  the  Tribunal 
do  la  Rota,of  two  individuals,  named  Andrea  Rondola  and 
Peppino,  otherwise  called  Rocca  Priori;  the  former  found 
guilty  of  the  murder  of  a  venerable  and  exemplary  priest, 
named  Don  Caesar  Torliui,  canon  of  the  church  of  Saiut- 
Jean-de-Latran;  and  the  latter  convicted  of  being  an  accom- 
plice of  the  atrocious  and  sanguinary  bandit,  LuigiVampa, 
and  his  troupe.  The  first-named  malefactor  will  be  maz- 
xolato,  the  second  culprit  decapitate.  The  prayers  of  all 

IM-M  \s-VoL.   I.— 17 


382  THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRI8TO. 

good  Christians  are  entreated  for  these  unfortunate  men, 
that  it  may  please  God  to  awaken  them  to  a  sense  of  their 
guilt,  and  to  grant  them  a  hearty  and  sincere  repentence  for 
their  crimes. 

This  was  precisely  what  Franz  had  heard  the  evening 
before  in  the  "ruins  of  the  Colosseum.  No  part  of  the  pro- 
gramme differed — the  names  of  the  condemned  persons— 
their  crimes  and  mode  of  punishment — all  agreed  with  his 
previous  information.  In  all  probability,  therefore,  the 
Transtevere  was  no  other  than  the  bandit  Luigi  Vampa  him- 
self, and  the  man  shrouded  in  the  mantle  the  same  he  had 
known  as  "  Sinbad  the  Sailor/'  but  who,  no  doubt,  was  still 
pursuing  his  philanthropic  expedition  in  Home  as  he  had 
already  done  at  Porto- Vecchio  and  Tunis.  Time  was  get- 
ting on,  however,  and  Franz  deemed  it  advisable  to  awaken 
Albert;  but  at  the  moment  he  prepared  to  proceed  to  his 
chamber,  his  friend  entered  the  salon  in  perfect  costume 
for  the  day.  The  anticipated  delights  of  the  carnival  had 
so  run  in  his  head  as  to  make  him  leave  his  pillow  long 
before  his  usual  hour. 

"  Now,  my  excellent  Maitre  Pastrini,"  said  Franz,  ad- 
dressing his  landlord,  "  since  we  are  both  ready,  do  you 
think  we  may  proceed  at  once  to  visit  the  Count  of  Monte 
Oristo  ?" 

"Most  assuredly, "  replied  he.  "  The  Count  of  Monte 
Cristo  is  always  an  early  riser;  and  I  can  answer  for  his 
having  been  up  these  two  hours." 

"Then  you  really  consider  we  shall  not  be  intruding 
if  we  pay  our  respects  to  him  directly  ?" 

"  Oh,  I  am  quite  sure.  I  will  take  all  the  blame  on 
myself  if  you  find  I  have  led  you  into  an  error." 

"  Well,  then,  if  it  be  so;  are  you  ready,  Albert  ?" 

"Perfectly." 

"Let  us  go  and  return  our  best  thanks  for  his  courtesy." 

"  Yes,  let  us  do  so." 

The  landlord  preceded  the  friends  across  the  landing, 
which  was  all  that  separated  them  from  the  apartments  of 
the  count,  rang  at  the  bell,  and  upon  the  door  being 
opened  by  a  servant,  said: 

"/  Signori  Francesi." 

The  domestic  bowed  respectfully,  and  invited  them  to 
enter.  They  passed  through  two  rooms,  furnished  with  a 


THE  CO  UNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO.  383 

style  and  luxury  they  had  not  calculated  on  finding  under 
the  roof  of  Maitre  Pastrini,  and  were  shown  into  an 
elegantly  fitted-up  salon.  The  richest  Turkey  carpets 
covered  the  floor,  and  the  softest  and  most  inviting  couches, 
bergeres  and  sofas  offered  their  high-piled  and  yielding 
cushions  to  such  as  desired  repose  or  refreshment.  Splen- 
did paintings  by  the  first  masters  were  ranged  against  the 
walls,  intermingled  with  magnificent  trophies  of  war,  while 
heavy  curtains  of  costly  tapestry  were  suspended  before  the 
different  doors  of  the  room. 

"  If  your  excellencies  will  please  be  seated/'  said  the  man, 
"  I  will  let  M.  le  Comte  know  you  are  here." 

And  with  these  words  he  disappeared  behind  one  of  the 
tapestried  portieres.  As  the  door  opened,  the  sound  of 
a  guzla  reached  the  ears  of  the  young  men,  but  was  almost 
immediately  lost,  for  the  rapid  closing  of  the  door  merely 
allowed  one  rich  swell  of  harmony  to  enter  the  salon. 
Franz  and  Albert  looked  inquiringly  at  each  other,  then  at 
the  gorgeous  fittiugs-up  of  the  apartment.  All  seemed 
even  more  splendid  at  a  second  view  than  it  had  done  at 
their  first  rapid  survey. 

"  Well,"  said  Franz  to  his  friend,  "  what  think  you  of 
all  this  ?" 

"  Why,  upon  my  soul,  my  dear  fellow,  it  strikes  me  our 
elegant  and  attentive  neighbor  must  either  be  some  suc- 
cessful stock-jobber  who  has  speculated  in  the  fall  of  the 
Spanish  funds,  or  some  prince  traveling  incog." 

"  Hush  !  hush  !"  replied  Franz,  "  we  shall  ascertain  who 
and  what  he  is — he  comes." 

As  Franz  spoke,  he  heard  the  sound  of  a  door  turning  on 
its  hinges,  and  almost  immediately  afterward  the  tapestry 
was  drawn  aside,  and  the  owner  of  all  these  riches  stood 
before  the  two  young  men.  Albert  instantly  rose  to  meet 
him,  but  Franz  remained,  in  a  manner,  spell-bound  on  his 
chair,  for  in  the  person  of  him  who  had  just  entered  he 
recognized  not  only  the  mysterious  visitant  to  the  Colos- 
seum, and  the  occupant  of  the  loge  at  the  Salle  Argentine, 
but  also  his  singular  host  of  Monte  Cristo. 


384  THE  CO  UNT  OF  MONTE  CBISTO. 

CHAPTEE  XXXV. 

LA   MAZZOLATA. 

"  GENTLEMEX,"  said  the  Count  of  Monte  Cristo  as  he 
entered,  "  I  pray  you  excuse  me  for  suffering  my  visit  to 
be  anticipated;  but  I  feared  to  disturb  you  by  presenting 
myself  earlier  at  your  apartments;  besides,  you  sent  me 
word  you  would  come  to  me,  and  I  have  held  myself  at 
your  disposal." 

"Franz  and  I  have  to  thank  you  a  thousand  times, 
M.  le  Comte,"  returned  Albert;  "you  extricated  us  from 
a  great  dilemma,  and  we  were  on  the  point  of  inventing 
some  very  fantastic  vehicle  when  your  friendly  invitation 
reach  us. 

"  Indeed!"  returned  the  count,  motioning  the  two 
young  men  to  sit  down.  "  It  was  the  fault  of  that  block- 
head Pastrini,  that  I  did  not  sooner  assist  you  in  your  dis- 
trees.  He  did  not  mention  a  syllable  of  your  embarrass- 
ment to  me,  when  he  knows  that,  alone  and  isolated  as  I 
am,  I  seek  every  opportunity  of  making  the  acquaintance 
of  my  neighbors.  As  soon  as  I  learned  I  could  in  any  way 
assist  you,  I  most  eagerly  seized  the  opportunity  of  offer- 
ing my  services." 

The  two  young  men  bowed.  Franz  had,  as  yet,  found 
nothing  to  say;  he  had  adopted  no  determination;  and  as 
nothing  in  the  count's  manner  manifested  the  wish  that  he 
should  recognize  him,  he  did  not  know  whether  to  make 
any  allusion  to  the  past,  or  wait  until  he  had  more  proof; 
besides,  although  sure  it  was  he  who  had  been  in  the  box 
the  previous  evening,  he  could  not  be  equally  positive  that 
he  was  the  man  he  had  seen  at  the  Colosseum.  He  re- 
solved, therefore,  to  let  things  take  their  course  without 
making  any  direct  overture  to  the  count.  Besides,  he 
had  this  advantage  over  him,  he  was  master  of  his  secret, 
while  he  had  no  hold  on  Franz,  who  had  nothing  to  con- 
ceal. However,  he  resolved  to  lead  the  conversation  to  a 
subject  which  might  possibly  clear  up  his  doubts. 

"  M.  le  Comte/'  said  he,  "you  have  offered  us  places  in 
your  carriage,  and  at  your  windows  of  the  Eospoli  Halace. 
Can  you  tell  us  where  we  can  obtain  a  sight  of  the  Place 
del  Popolo?" 


TSB  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CR1STO.  386 

"  Ah!"  said  the  count,  negligently,  looking  attentively 
at  Morcerf,  "is  there  not  something  like  an  execution 
upon  the  Place  del  Popolo?" 

"  Yea,"  returned  Franz,  finding  that  the  count  was 
coming  to  the  point  he  wished. 

"  Stay,  I  think  I  told  my  steward  yesterday  to  attend  to 
this;  perhaps  I  can  render  you  this  slight  service  also." 
He  extended  his  hand,  and  rang  the  bell  thrice.  "Did 
you  ever  occupy  yourself,"  said  he  to  Franz,  "with  the 
employment  of  time  and  the  means  of  simplifying  the 
summoning  your  servants?  I  have;  when  I  ring  once,  it 
is  for  my  valet;  twice,  for  my  maitre  d'hdtel;  thrice,  for 
my  steward;  thus  I  do  not  waste  a  minute  or  a  word. 
Here  he  is!"  A  man  of  about  45  to  50  entered,  exactly 
resembling  the  smuggler  who  had  introduced  Franz  into 
the  cavern;  but  he  did  not  appear  to  recognize  him.  It 
was  evident  he  had  his  orders.  "M.  Bertuccio,"  said  the 
count,  "have  you  procured  the  windows  looking  on  the 
Place  del  Popolo,  as  I  ordered  you  yesterday?" 

"  Yes,  excellency,"  returned  the  steward;  "but  it  was 
very  late." 

"  Did  I  not  tell  you  I  wished  for  one?"  replied  the 
count,  frowning. 

"  And  your  excellency  has  one,  which  was  let  to  Prince 
Lobanieff;  but  I  was  obliged  to  pay  a  hundred " 

"  That  will  do — that  will  do,  Monsieur  Bertuccio;  spare 
these  gentlemen  all  such  domestic  arrangements.  You 
have  the  window,  that  is  sufficient.  Give  orders  to  the 
coachman;  and  be  in  readiness  on  the  stairs  to  conduct  us 
to  it."  The  steward  bowed,  and  was  about  to  quit  the 
room.  "Ah!"  continued  the  count,  "be  good  enough  to 
ask  Pastriui  if  he  has  received  the  tavoletta,  and  if  he  can 
send  us  an  account  of  the  execution." 

"  There  is  no  need  to  do  that,"  said  Franz,  taking  out 
his  tablets;  "for  I  saw  the  account,  and  copied  it  down." 

"  Very  well,  you  can  retire,  Maitre  Bertuccio;  let  us 
know  when  breakfast  is  ready.  These  gentlemen,"  added 
he,  turning  to  the  two  friends,  "will,  I  trust,  do  me  the 
honor  to  breakfast?" 

"But,  M.  le  Comte,"  said  Albert,  "we  shall  abuse  your 
kindness." 

"  Not  at  all;  on  the  contrary,  yon  will  give  me  great 
pleasure.  You  will,  one  or  other  of  you,  perhaps  both,  re- 


386  THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  (JRI8TO. 

turn  it  to  me  at  Paris.  Maitre  Bertuccio,  lay  covers  for 
three."  He  took  Franz's  tablets  out  of  his  hand.  "'We 
announce/  he  read,  in  the  same  tone  with  which  he  would 
have  read  a  newspaper,  'that  to-day,  the  23d  of  February, 
will  be  executed  Andrea  Rondolo,  guilty  of  murder  on  the 
person  of  the  respected  and  venerated  Don  Caesar  Torlini, 
canon  of  the  church  of  Saint- Jean-de-Latrau,  and  Pep- 
pino,  called  Rocca  Priori,  convicted  of  complicity  with 
the  detestable  bandit  Luigi  Vampa,  and  the  men  of  his 
troup.'  Hum!  'The  first  will  be  mazzolato,  the  second 
decapitato.'  Yes,"  continued  the  count,  "it  was  at  first 
arranged  in  this  way;,  but  I  think  since  yesterday  some 
change  has  taken  place  in  the  order  of  the  ceremony." 

"Really!"  said  Franz. 

"Yes;  I  passed  the  evening  at  the  Cardinal  Rospigliosi's, 
and  there  mention  was  made  of  something  like  a  pardon 
for  one  of  the  two  men." 

"For  Andrea  Rondolo?"  asked  Franz. 

"  No,"  replied  the  count,  carelessly;  "for  the  other"  (he 
glanced  at  the  tablets  as  if  to  recall  the  name),  "for  Pep- 
pino,  called  Rocca  Priori.  You  are  thus  deprived  of  see- 
ing a  man  guillotined ;  but  the  mazzolato  still  remains, 
which  is  a  very  curious  punishment  when  seen  for  the  first 
time,  and  even  the  second,  while  the  other,  as  you  must 
know,  is  very  simple.  The  manddia  never  fails,  never 
trembles,  never  strikes  thirty  times  ineffectually,  like  the 
soldier  who  beheaded  the  Comte  de  Chaleis,  and  to  whose 
tender  mercy  Richelieu  had  doubtless  recommended  the 
sufferer.  Ah!"  added  the  count,  in  a  contemptuous  tone, 
"do  not  tell  me  of  European  punishments,  they  are  in  the 
infancy,  or  rather  the  old  age,  of  cruelty." 

"  Really,  M.  le  Comte,"  replied  Franz,  "one  would 
think  that  you  had  studied  the  different  tortures  of  all  the 
nations  of  the  world." 

"There  are,  at  least,  few  that  I  have  not  seen,"  said  the 
count,  coldly. 

"And  you  took  pleasure  in  beholding  these  dreadful 
spectacles?" 

"My  first  sentiment  was  horror,  the  second  indifference, 
the  third  curiosity." 

"Curiosity!  that  is  a  terrible  word." 

"Why  so?  In  life,  our  greatest  preoccupation  is  death; 
is  it  not,  then,  curious  to  study  the  different  ways  by  which 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO  387 

the  soul  and  body  can  part;  and  how,  according  to  their 
different  characters,  temperaments,  and  even  the  different 
customs  of  their  countries,  individuals  bear  the  transition 
from  life  to  death,  from  existence  to  annihilation?  As 
for  myself,  I  can  assure  you  of  one  thing,  the  more  men 
you  see  die,  the  easier  it  becomes  to  die;  and  in  my 
opinion,  death  may  be  a  torture,  but  it  is  not  an  expia- 
tion." 

"  I  do  not  quite  understand  you,"  replied  Franz;  "  pray 
explain  your  meaning,  for  you  excite  my  curiosity  to  the 
highest  pitch." 

"  Listen,"  said  the  count,  and  deep  hatred  mounted  to 
his  face,  as  the  blood  would  to  the  face  of  any  other.  "  If 
a  man  had  by  unheard  of  and  excruciating  tortures  de- 
stroyed your  father,  your  mother,  your  mistress;  in  a  word, 
one  of  those  beings  who,  when  they  are  torn  from  you, 
leave  a  desolation,  a  wound  that  never  closes,  in  your 
breast,  do  you  think  the  reparation  that  society  gives  you 
sufficient  by  causing  the  knife  of  the  guillotine  to  pass 
between  the  base  of  the  occiput  and  the  trapezal  muscles  of 
the  murderer,  because  he  who  has  caused  us  years  of  moral 
Bufferings  undergoes  a  few  moments  of  physical  pain?" 

"Yes,  I  know,"  said  Franz,  "  that  human  justice  is  in- 
sufficient to  console  us;  she  can  give  blood  in  return  foi 
blood,  that  is  all;  but  you  must  demand  from  her  only 
what  it  is  in  her  power  to  grant." 

"  I  will  put  another  case  to  you,"  continued  the  count; 
"  that  where  society,  attacked  by  the  death  of  a  person, 
avenges  death  by  death.  But  are  there  not  a  thousand  tor- 
tures by  which  a  man  may  be  made  to  suffer  without  society 
taking  the  least  cognizance  of  them,  or  offering  him  even 
the  insufficient  means  of  vengeance,  of  which  we  have  just 
spoken?  Are  there  not  crimes  for  which  the  impalement 
of  the  Turks,  the  angers  of  the  Persians,  the  stake  and  the 
brand  of  the  Iroquois  Indians,  are  inadquate  tortures,  and 
which  are  unpunished  by  society?  Answer  me,  do  not 
these  crimes  exist?" 

"Yes,"  answered  Franz;  "and  it  is  to  punish  them 
that  dueling  is  tolerated." 

"Ah,  dueling!"  cried  the  count;  "  a  pleasant  manner, 
upon  my  soul,  of  arriving  at  your  end  when  that  end  is 
vengeance!  A  man  has  carried  off  your  mistress,  a  man 
has  seduced  your  wife,  a  man  has  dishonored  your  daugh- 


388  THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO. 

ter ;  he  has  rendered  the  whole  life  of  one  who  had  the 
right  to  expect  from  heaven  that  portion  of  happiness  God 
has  promised  to  every  one  of  his  creatures,  an  existence  of 
misery  and  infamy;  and  you  think  you  are  avenged  be- 
cause you  send  a  ball  through  the  head,  or  pass  a  sword 
through  the  breast,  of  that  man  who  has  planted  madness 
in  your  brain  and  despair  in  your  heart.  Without  recol- 
lecting that  it  is  often  he  who  comes  off  victorious  from 
the  strife,  absolved  of  all  crime  in  the  eye  of  the  world! 
No,  no,"  continued  the  count;  "  had  I  to  avenge  myself  it 
is  not  thus  I  would  take  revenge." 

"  Then  you  disapprove  of  dueling!  you  would  not  fight 
a  duel?"  asked  Albert,  in  his  turn,  astonished  at  this 
strange  theory. 

"  Oh,  yes,"  replied  the  count,  "understand  me,  I  would 
fight  a  duel  for  a  trifle,  for  an  insult,  for  a  blow;  and  the 
more  so  that,  thanks  to  my  skill  in  all  bodily  exercises, 
and  the  indifference  to  danger  I  have  gradually  acquired, 
I  should  be  almost  certain  to  kill  my  man.  Oh!  I  would 
fight  for  such  a  cause;  but  in  return  ftir  a  slow,  profound, 
eternal  torture,  I  would  give  back  the  same,  were  it  pos- 
sible; an  eye  for  an  eye,  a  tooth  for  a  tooth,  as  the 
Orientalists  say — our  masters  in  everything;  those  favored 
creatures  who  have  formed  for  themselves  a  life  of  dreams 
and  a  paradise  of  realities." 

"  But,"  said  Franz,  to  the  count,  "  with  this  theory, 
which  renders  jou  at  once  judge  and  executioner  of  your 
own  cause,  it  would  be  difficult  to  adopt  a  course  that 
would  forever  prevent  your  falling  under  the  power  of  the 
law.  Hatred  is  blind;  rage  carries  you  away;  and  he  who 
pours  out  vengeance  runs  the  risk  of  tasting  a  bitter 
draught." 

"  Yes,  if  he  be  poor  and  inexperienced;  not  if  he  be  rich 
and  skillful;  besides,  the  worst  that  could  happen  to  him 
would  be  the  punishment  of  which  we  have  already  spoken, 
and  which  the  philanthropic  French  revolution  has  substi- 
tuted for  being  torn  to  pieces  by  horses  or  broken  on  the 
wheel.  What  matters  this  punishment  as  long  as  he  ip 
avenged?  On  my  word,  I  almost  regret  that  in  all  proba- 
bility this  miserable  Peppino  will  not  be  decapitato,  as  you 
might  have  had  an  opportunity  then  of  seeing  how  short  a 
time  the  punishment  lasts  and  whether  it  is  worth  even 
mentioning;  but,  really,  this  is  a  most  singular  conversa- 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRI8TO.  389 

tion  for  the  carnival,  gentlemen;  how  did  it  arise?  Ah!  I 
recollect,  you  asked  for  a  place  at  my  window;  you  shall  have 
it;  but  let  us  first  sit  down  to  the  table,  for  here  comes  the 
servant  to  inform  us  breakfast  is  ready." 

As  he  spoke,  a  servant  opened  one  of  the  four  doors  of 
the  salon,  saying:  "  Al  suo  commodo!" 

The  two  young  men  rose  and  entered  the  breakfast- 
room. 

During  the  meal,  which  was  excellent  and  admirably 
served,  Franz  looked  repeatedly  at  Albert,  in  order  to  re- 
mark the  impression  which  he  doubted  not  had  been  made 
on  him  by  the  words  of  their  entertainer;  but  whether 
with  his  usual  carelessness  he  had  paid  but  little  attention 
to  him,  whether  the  explanation  of  the  Count  of  Monte 
Cristo  with  regard  to  dueling  had  satisfied  him,  or  whether 
the  events  which  Franz  knew  of  had  a  double  effect  on  him 
alone,  he  remarked  that  his  companion  did  not  pay  the 
least  regard  to  them,  but  on  the  contrary  ate  like  a  man 
who  for  the  last  four  or  five  months  had  been  condemned 
to  partake  of  Italian  cookery — that  is,  the  worst  in  the 
world,  As  for  the  count,  he  just  touched  the  dishes;  he 
seemed  as  if  he  fulfilled  the  duties  of  an  entertainer  by 
sitting  down  with  his  guests,  and  awaited  their  departure 
to  be  served  with  some  strange  or  more  delicate  food. 
This  brought  back  to  Franz,  in  spite  of  himself,  the  recol- 
lection of  the  terror  with  which  the  count  had  inspired  the 

Countess  G- ,  and  her  firm  conviction  that  the  man  in 

the  opposite  box  was  a  vampire.  At  the  end  of  the  break- 
fast Franz  took  out  his  watch. 

"  Well,"  said  the  count,  "  what  are  you  doing?" 

"  You  must  excuse  us,  M.  le  Comte,"  returned  Franz, 
"but  we  have  still  much  to  do." 

"  What  may  that  be?" 

"  We  have  no  disguises  and  it  is  absolutely  necessary  to 
procure  them." 

"  Do  not  concern  yourself  about  that;  we  have,  I  think, 
a  private  room  in  the  Place  del  Popolo;  I  will  have  what- 
ever costumes  you  choose  brought  to  us  and  you  can  dress 
there." 

"  After  the  execution?"  cried  Franz. 

"  Before  or  after,  which  you  please." 

"Opposite  the  scaffold?" 

"  The  scaffold  forms  part  of  the  fe~te." 


390  THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO. 

"M.  le  Comte,  I  have  reflected  on  the  matter/'  said 
Franz,  "  I  thank  you  for  your  courtesy,  but  I  shall  content 
myself  with  accepting  a  place  in  your  carriage  and  at  your 
window  at  the  Rospoli  Palace,  and  I  leave  you  at  liberty  to 
dispose  of  my  place  at  the  Place  del  Popolo." 

"  But  I  warn  you,  you  will  lose  a  very  curious  sight," 
returned  the  count. 

"  You  will  relate  it  to  me,"  replied  Franz,  "  and  the 
recital  from  your  lips  will  make  as  great  an  impression  on 
me  as  if  I  had  witnessed  it.  I  have  more  than  once  in- 
tended witnessing  an  execution,  but  I  have  never  been  able 
to  make  up  my  mind;  and  you,  Albert?" 

"  I,"  replied  the  viscount;  "  I  saw  Castaing  executed, 
but  I  think  I  was  rather  intoxicated  that  day,  for  I  had 
quitted  college  the  same  morning,  and  we  had  passed  the 
previous  night  at  a  tavern." 

"Besides,  it  is  no* reason  because  you  have  not  seen  an 
execution  at  Paris,  that  you  should  not  see  one  anywhere 
else;  when  you  travel,  it  is  to  see  everything.  Think  what 
a  figure  you  will  make  when  you  are  asked  :  *  How  do 
they  execute  at  Rome?'  and  you  reply:  <I  do  not  know!' 
And,  besides,  they  say  that  the  culprit  is  an  infamous 
scoundrel,  who  killed  with  a  log  of  wood  a  worthy  canon 
who  had  brought  him  up  like  his  own  son.  Diable!  when 
a  churchman  is  killed,  it  should  be  with  a  different  weapon 
than  a  log,  especially  when  he  has  behaved  like  a  father. 
If  you  went  to  Spain,  would  you  not  see  the  bull-fights  ? 
Well,  suppose  it  is  a  bull  fight  you  are  going  to  see  ? 
Recollect  the  ancient  Romans  of  the  circus,  and  the  sports 
where  they  killed  300  lions  and  100  men.  Think  of  the 
80,000  applauding  spectators,  the  sage  matrons  who  took 
their  daughters,  and  the  charming  vestals  who  made  with 
the  thumb  of  their  white  hands  the  fatal  sign  that  said: 
'Come,  despatch  this  man,  already  nearly  dead/" 

"Shall  you  go,  then,  Albert?"  asked  Franz. 

"  Ma  foil  yes;  like  you,  I  hesitated,  but  the  count's 
eloquence  decides  me!"  ' 

"  Let  us  go,  then,"  said  Franz,  "since  you  wish  it;  but 
on  our  way  to  the  Piazza  del  Popolo,  I  wish  to  pass  through 
the  Rue  du  Cours.  Is  this  possible,  M.  le  Comte?" 

"On  foot,  yes!  in  a  carriage,  no!" 

"I  will  go  on  foot,  then!'" 

"  Is  it  important  that  you  should  pass  through  this 
etreet?" 


THE  CO  UNT  OF  MONTE  VRISTO.  391 

"Yes,  there  is  something  I  wish  to  see!" 

"Well,  we  will  pass  by  the  Rue  du  Cours.     We  will 

nd  the  carriage  to  wait  for  us  on  the  Piazzo  del  Popolo, 
by  the  Strada  del  Babuino,  for  I  shall  be  glad  to  pass,  my- 
self, through  the  Rue  du  Cours,  to  see  if  some  orders  I  have 
given  have  been  executed/' 

"Excellency/'  said  a  servant,  opening  the  door,  "a 
man  in  the  dress  of  a  penitent  wishes  to  speak  to  you." 

"Ah!  yes!"  returned  the  count,  "I  know  who  he  is, 
gentlemen;  will  you  return  to  the  salon?  you  will  find  on 
the  center  table  some  excellent  Havana  cigars.  I  will  be 
with  you  directly." 

The  young  men  rose  and  returned  into  the  salon,  while 
the  count,  again  apologizing,  left  by  another  door. 
Albert,  who  was  a  great  smoker,  and  who  had  considered 
it  no  small  sacrifice  to  be  deprived  of  the  cigars  of  the  Cafe 
de  Paris,  approached  the  table,  and  uttered  a  cry  of  joy  at 
perceiving  some  veritable  puros. 

"Well,"  asked  Franz,  "what  think  you  of  the  Count  of 
Monte  Cristo?" 

"  What  do  I  think?"  said  Albert,  evidently  surprised  at 
such  a  question  from  his  companion;  "I  think  that 
he  is  a  delightful  fellow,  who  does  the  honors  of  his  table 
admirably ;  who  has  traveled  much,  read  much,  is,  like 
Brutus,  of  the  Stoic  school,  and  moreover,"  added  he, 
sending  a  volnme  of  smoke  toward  the  ceiling,  "that  he 
has  excellent  cigars." 

Such  was  Albert's  opinion  of  the  count,  and  as  Franz 
well  knew  that  Albert  professed  never  to  form  an  opinion 
except  upon  long  reflection,  he  made  no  attempt  to 
change  it. 

"But,"  said  he,  "did  you  remark  one  very  singular 
thing?" 

"What?" 

"How  attentively  he  looked  at  you/' 

"At  me?" 

"  Yes." 

Albert  reflected. 

"Ah!"  replied  he,  sighing,  "that  is  not  very  surprising; 
I  have  been  more  than  a  year  absent  from  Paris,  and  my 
clothes  are  of  the  most  antiquated  cut;  the  count  takes  me 
/or  a  provincial.  The  first  opportunity  you  have,  unde- 
ceive him,  I  beg,  and  tell  him  I  am  nothing  of  the  kind." 


392  THE  COUN2  OF  MONTE  CRISTO. 

Franz  smiled;  an  instant  after,  the  count  entered. 

"I  am  now  quite  at  your  service,  gentlemen,"  said  he. 
"  The  carriage  is  going  one  way  to  the  Place  del  Popolo, 
and  we  will  go  another;  and  if  you  please,  by  the  Kue  du 
Cours.  Take  some  more  of  these  cigars,  M.  de  Morcerf." 

"With  all  my  heart/' returned  Albert;  " these  Italian 
cigars  are  horrible.  When  you  come  to  Paris  I  will  return 
all  this/' 

"  I  will  not  refuse;  I  intend  going  there  soon,  and  since 
you  allow  me,  I  will  pay  you  a  visit.  Come  !  we  have  not 
any  time  to  lose,  it  is  12:30 — let  us  set  off!" 

All  three  descended;  the  coachman  received  his  master's 
orders,  and  drove  down  the  Via  del  Babuino.  While  the 
three  gentlemen  walked  toward  the  Place  d'Espange  and 
the  Via  Frattina,  which  led  directly  between  the  Fiano  and 
Kospoli  Palaces,  all  Franz's  attention  was  directed  toward 
the  windows  of  that  last  palace,  for  he  had  not  forgotten 
the  signal  agreed  upon  between  the  man  in  the  mantle  and 
the  transtevere  peasant. 

"  Which  are  your  windows?"  asked  he  of  the  count, 
with  as  much  indifference  as  he  could  assume. 

"  The  three  last,"  returned  he,  with  a  negligence  evi- 
dently unaffected,  for  he  could  not  imagine  with  what 
intention  the  question  was  put. 

Franz  glanced  rapidly  toward  the  three  windows.  The 
side  windows  were  hung  with  yellow  damask,  and  the 
center  one  with  white  damask  and  a  red  cross.  The  man 
in  the  mantle  had  kept  his  promise  to  the  transtevere,  and 
there  could  now  be  no  doubt  that  he  was  the  count.  The 
three  windows  were  still  untenanted.  Preparations  were 
making  on  every  side ;  chairs  were  placed,  scaffolds  were 
raised,  and  windows  were  hung  with  flags.  The  masks 
could  not  appear;  the  carriages  could  not  move  about;  but 
the  masks  were  visible  behind  the  windows,  the  carriages, 
and  the  doors. 

Franz,  Albert,  and  the  count  continued  to  descend  the 
Rue  du  Cours  ;  as  they  approached  the  Place  del  Popolo, 
the  crowd  became  more  dense,  and  above  the  heads  of  the 
multitude  two  objects  were  visible ;  the  obelisk,  sur- 
mounted by  a  cross  which  marks  the  center  of  the  place, 
and  before  the  obelisk,  at  the  point  where  the  three  streets, 
del  Babuino,  del  Corso,  and  di  Eipetta  meet,  the  two  up- 
rights of  the  scaffold,  between  which  glittered  the  curved 


1HE  CO  UNT  OF  MONTE  CRI8TO.  393 

knife  of  the  manda'ia.  At  the  corner  of  the  street  they 
met  the  count's  steward,  who  was  awaiting  his  master. 
The  window,  let  at  an  exorbitant  price,  which  the  count 
had  doubtless  wished  to  conceal  from  his  guests,  was  on 
the  second  floor  of  the  great  palace,  situated  between  the 
Rue  del  Babuino  and  the  Monte  Piucio.  It  consisted,  as 
we  have  said,  of  a  small  dressing-room,  opening  into  a  bed- 
room, and  when  the  door  of  communication  was  shut,  the 
inmates  were  quite  alone.  On  two  chairs  were  laid 
many  elegant  costumes  of  paillasse,  in  blue  and  white 
satin. 

"As  you  left  the  choice  of  your  costumes  to  me,"  said 
the  count  to  the  two  friends,  "I  have  had  these  brought, 
as  they  will  be  the  most  worn  this  year  ;  and  they  are  most 
suitable,  on  account  of  the  confetti  (sweetmeats),  as  they  do 
not  show  the  flour." 

Franz  heard  the  words  of  the  count  but  imperfectly,  and 
he  perhaps  did  not  fully  appreciate  this  new  attention 
to  their  wishes ;  for  he  was  wholly  absorbed  by  the  spec- 
tacle that  the  Piazza  del  Popolo  presented,  and  by  the  ter- 
rible instrument  that  was  in  the  center.  It  was  the  first 
time  Franz  had  ever  seen  a  guillotine — we  say  guillotine, 
because  the  Roman  manda'ia  is  formed  on  almost  the  same 
model  as  the  French  instrument ;  the  knife,  which  is 
shaped  like  a  crescent,  that  cuts  with  the  convex  side,  falls 
from  a  less  height,  and  that  is  all  the  difference.  Two  men, 
seated  on  the  movable  plank  on  which  the  culprit  is  laid, 
were  eating  their  breakfast,  while  waiting  for  the  criminal. 
Their  repast  consisted,  apparently,  of  bread  and  sausages. 
One  of  them  lifted  the  plank,  took  thence  a  flask  of  wine, 
drank  some,  and  then  passed  it  to  his  companions.  These 
two  men  were  the  executioner's  assistants.  At  this  sight 
Franz  felt  the  perspiration  start  forth  upon  his  brow.  The 
prisoners,  transported  the  previous  evening  from  the  Car- 
cere  Nuovo  to  the  little  church  of  Santa  Maria  del  Popolo, 
had  passed  the  night,  each  accompanied  by  two  priests,  in 
a  chapel  closed  by  a  grating  before  which  were  two  senti- 
nels, relieved  at  intervals.  A  double  line  of  carbineers, 
placed  on  each  side  of  the  door  to  the  church,  reached  to 
the  scaffold  and  formed  a  circle  round  it,  leaving  a  path 
about  ten  feet  wide  and  beyond  the  guillotine  a  space  of 
nearly  a  hundred  feet.  All  the  rest  of  the  place  was 
paved  with  heads.  Many  women  held  their  infants  on 


394  THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO. 

their  shoulders,  and  thus  the  children  had  the  best  view. 
The  Monte  Pincio  seemed  a  vast  amphitheater  filled  with 
spectators;  the  balconies  of  the  two  churches  at  the  corner 
of  the  Eue  del  Babuino  and  the  Rue  di  Ripetta  were 
crammed;  the  steps  even  seemed  a  parti-colored  sea,  that 
was  impelled  toward  the  portico;  every  niche  in  the  wall 
held  its  living  statue. 

What  the  count  said  was  true — the  most  curious  spec- 
tacle in  life  is  that  of  death.  And  yet,  instead  of  the 
silence  and  the  solemnity  demanded  by  the  occasion,  a 
noise  of  laughter  and  jest  arose  from  the  crowd;  it  was 
evident  that  this  execution  was,  in  the  eyes  of  the  people, 
only  the  commencement  of  the  carnival.  Suddenly  the 
tumult  ceased,  as  if  by  magic;  the  doors  of  the  church 
opened. 

A  brotherhood  of  penitents,  clothed  from  head  to 
foot  in  robes  of  gray  sackcloth,  with  holes  for  the  eyes 
alone,  and  holding  in  their  hand  a  lighted  taper,  appeared 
first;  the  chief  marched  at  the  head.  Behind  the  peni- 
tents came  a  man  of  vast  stature  and  proportions.  He 
was  naked  with  the  exception  of  cloth  drawers,  at  the  left 
side  of  which  hung  a  large  knife  in  a  sheath,  and  he  bore 
on  his  right  shoulder  a  heavy  mace.  This  man  was  the 
executioner.  He  had,  moreover,  sandals  bound  on  his  feet 
by  cords.  Behind  the  executioner  came,  in  the  order  in 
which  they  were  to  die,  first  Peppino  and  then  Andrea. 
Each  was  accompanied  by  two  priests.  Neither  had  their 
eyes  bandaged.  Peppino  walked  with  a  firm  step,  doubtless 
aware  of  what  awaited  him.  Andrea  was  supported  by 
two  priests.  Each  of  them  kissed,  from  time  to  time,  the 
crucifix  a  confessor  held  out  to  them. 

At ,  this  sight  alone  Franz  felt  his  legs  tremble  under 
him.  He  looked  at  Albert — he  was  as  white  as  his  shirt, 
and  mechanically  cast  away  his  cigar,  although  he  had  not 
hsvlf  smoked  it.  The  count  alone  seemed  unmoved;  nay, 
more,  a  slight  color  seemed  striving  to  rise  in  his  pale 
cheeks.  His  nostrils  dilated  like  a  wild  beast  that  scents 
its  prey,  and  his  lips,  half  opened,  disclosed  his  white 
teeth,  small  and  sharp,  like  those  of  a  jackal.  And  yet 
his  features  wore  an  expression  of  smiling  tenderness,  such 
as  Franz  had  never  before  witnessed  in  them;  his  black 
eyes  especially  were  full  of  kindness  and  pity.  However, 
the  two  culprits  advanced,  and  as  they  approached  their 
faces  became  vissible. 


THE  CO  UNT  OF  MONTE  CRI8TO.  395 

Peppiuo  was  a  handsome  young  man  of  24  or  25, 
bronzed  by  the  sun;  he  carried  his  head  erect  and  seemed 
to  look  on  which  side  his  liberator  would  appear.  Andrea 
was  short  and  fat;  his  visage,  marked  with  brutal  cruelty, 
did  not  indicate  age;  he  might  be  30.  In  prison  he 
had  suffered  his  beard  to  grow;  his  head  fell  on  his 
shoulder,  his  legs  bent  beneath  him  and  he  seemed  to 
to  obey  a  mechanical  movement  of  which  he  was  un- 
conscious. 

"I  thought,"  said  Franz  to  the  count,  "that  you  told 
me  there  would  be  but  one  execution." 

'  I  told  you  true,"  replied  he,  coldly. 

'However,  here  are  two  culprits." 

'Yes;  but  only  one  of  these  two  is  about  to  die;  the 
other  has  long  years  to  live." 

'If  the  pardon  is  to  come,  there  is  no  time  to  lose." 

'And  see,  here  it  is,"  said  the  count. 

At  the  moment  when  Peppino  arrived  at  the  foot  of  the 
mandala,  a  penitent,  who  seemed  to  arrive  late,  forced  his 
way  through  the  soldiers,  and,  advancing  to  the  chief  of 
the  brotherhood,  gave  him  a  folded  paper.  The  piercing 
eye  of  Peppino  had  noticed  all.  The  chief  took  the  paper, 
unfolded  it,  and,  raising  his  hand: 

"Heaven  be  praised!  and  his  holiness  also!"  said  he,  in 
loud  voice;  "  here  is  a  pardon  for  one  of  the  prisoners!" 

"A  pardon!"  cried  the  people  with  one  voice — "a 
pardon!" 

At  this  cry  Andrea  raised  his  head. 

"Pardon  for  whom?"  cried  he. 

Poppino  remained  breathless. 

"A  pardon  for  Peppino,  called  Rocca  Priori,"  said  the 
principal  friar. 

And  he  passed  the  paper  to  the  officer  commanding  the 
carbineers,  who  read  and  returned  it  to  him. 

"For  Peppino!"  cried  Andrea,  who  seemed  aroused 
from  the  torpor  in  which  he  had  been  plunged.  "Why 
for  him  and  not  for  me?  We  ought  to  die  together.  I 
was  promised  he  should  die  with  me.  You  have  no  right 
to  put  me  to  death  alone.  I  will  not  die  alone — I  will 
not!" 

And  he  broke  from  the  priests,  struggling  and  raving 
like  a  wild  beast  and  striving  desperately  to  break  the 
cords  that  bound  his  hands.  The  executions  made  a 


398  THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRI8TO. 

sign  and  his  assistant  leaped  from  the  scaffold  and  seized 
him. 

"What  is  passing?"  asked  Franz  of  the  count;  for,  as  all 
this  occurred  in  the  Roman  dialect,  he  had  not  perfectly 
comprehended  it. 

"Do  you  not  see,"  returned  the  count,  "that  this 
human  creature  who  is  about  to  die  is  furious  that  his 
fellow-sufferer  does  not  perish  with  him?  And,  where  he 
able,  he  would  rather  tear  him  to  pieces  with  his  teeth  and 
nails  than  let  him  enjoy  the  life  he  himself  is  about  to  be 
deprived  of.  Oh,  man,  man!  race  of  crocodiles!"  cried 
the  count,  extending  his  clinched  hands  toward  the  crowd, 
"  how  well  do  I  recognize  you  there,  and  that  at  all  times 
you  are  worthy  of  yourselves!" 

All  this  time  Andrea  and  the  two  executioners  were 
struggling  on  the  ground,  and  he  kept  exclaiming: 

"He  ought  to  die!    He  shall  die!     I  will  not  die  alone!" 

"Look,  look!"  cried  the  count,  seizing  the  young  men's 
hands.  "Look!  for  on  my  soul  it  is  curious.  Here  is  a 
man  who  had  resigned  himself  to  his  fate  who  was  going 
to  the  scaffold  to  die — like  a  coward,  it  is  true,  but  he  was 
about  to  die  without  resistance.  Do  you  know  what  gave 
him  strength?  Do  you  know  what  consoled  him?  It  was 
that  another  partook  of  his  punishment — that  another 
partook  of  his  anguish — that  another  was  to  die  before 
him.  Lead  two  sheep  to  the  butcher's,  two  oxen  to  the 
slaughter-house,  and  make  one  of  them  understand  his 
companion  will  not  die — the  sheep  will  bleat  for  pleasure, 
the  ox  will  bellow  with  joy.  But  man — man,  whom  God 
created  in  his  own  image — man,  upon  whom  God  has  laid 
his  first,  his  sole  commandment,  to  love  his  neighbor — 
man,  to  whom  God  has  given  a  voice  to  express  his 
thoughts — what  is  his  first  cry  when  he  hears  his  fellow-man 
is  saved?  A  blasphemy!  Honor  to  man,  this  masterpiece 
of  nature,  this  king  of  the  creation !" 

And  the  count  burst  into  a  laugh,  but  a  terrible  laugh, 
that  showed  he  must  have  suffered  horribly  to  bo  able  thus 
to  laugh.  However,  the  struggle  still  continued,  and  it 
was  dreadful  to  witness.  The  people  all  took  part  against 
Andrea,  and  20,000  voices  cried: 

"Put  him  to  death!     Put  him  to  death!" 

Franz  sprang  back,  but  the  count  seized  his  arm  and 
held  him  before  the  window. 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CEI8TO.  397 

"What  are  you  doing?"  said  he.  "Do  you  pity 
him?  If  you  heard  theory  of  'mad  dog!'  you  would 
take  your  gun — you  would  unhesitatingly  shoot  the  poor 
beast,  who,  after  all,  was  only  guilty  of  having  been 
bitten  by  another  dog.  And  yet  you  pity  a  man  who, 
without  being  bitten  by  one  of  his  race,  has  yet  murdered 
his  benefactor;  and  who,  now  unable  to  kill  anyone  be- 
cause his  hands  are  bound,  wishes  to  see  his  companion  in 
captivity  peri§h.  No,  no — look,  look!" 

This  recommendation  was  needless.  Franz  was  fascina- 
ted by  the  horrible  spectacle.  The  two  assistants  had 
borne  Andrea  to  the  scaffold,  and  there,  spite  of  his  strug- 
gles, his  bites,  and  his  cries,  had  forced  him  to  his  knees. 
During  this  time  the  executioner  had  raised  his  mace,  and 
signed  to  them  to  get  out  of  the  way;  the  criminal  strove 
to  rise,  but,  ere  he  had  time,  the  mace  fell  on  his  left 
temple.  A  dull  and  heavy  sound  was  heard,  and  the  man 
dropped  like  an  ox  on  his  face,  and  then  turned  over  on  his 
back.  The  executioner  let  fall  his  mace,  drew  his  knife, 
and  with  one  stroke,  opened  his  throat,  and  mounting  on  his 
stomach,  stamped  violently  on  it  with  his  feet.  At  every 
stroke  a  ,jet  of  blood  sprang  from  the  wound. 

This  time  Franz  could  sustain  himself  no  longer,  but 
gank,  half  fainting,  into  a  seat.  Albert,  with  his  eyes 
closed,  was  standing  grasping  the  window  curtains.  The 
count  was  ereat  and  triumphant  like  the  avenging  angel! 


CHAPTER  XXXVI. 

THE     CARNIVAL     AT     ROME. 

WHEN  Franz  recovered  his  senses,  he  saw  Albert  drink 
ing  a  glass  of  water,  of  which  his  paleness  showed  lie  stood 
in  great  need,  and  the  count,  who  was  assuming  his  cos- 
tume of  paillasse.  He  glanced  mechanically  toward  the 
place;  all  had  disappeared — scaffold,  executioners,  victims; 
nought  remained  but  the  people,  full  of  noise  and  excite- 
ment. The  bell  of  Monte  Citorio,  which  only  sounds  ou 
the  pope's  decease  and  the  opening  of  the  carnival,  was 
ringing  a  joyous  peal. 

"  Well,"  asked  he  of  the  count,  "  what  has,  then,  hap- 
pened?" 


398  THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO. 

"  Nothing/'  replied  the  count,  "  only,  as  you  see,  the 
carnival  has  commenced.  Make  haste  and  dress  yourself." 

"  In  reality,"  said  Franz,  "  this  horrible  scene  has 
passed  away  like  a  dream." 

"  It  is  but  a  dream — the  nightmare  that  has  disturbed 
you." 

"Yes,  that  I  have  suffered;  but  the  culprit?" 

"  That  is  a  dream  also;  only  he  has  remained  asleep, 
while  you  have  awoke;  and  who  knows  which  of  you  is 
the  most  fortunate?" 

"But  Peppino — what  has  become  of  him?" 

"  Peppino  is  a  lad  of  sense,  who,  unlike  most  men,  who 
are  furious  if  they  pass  unnoticed,  was  delighted  to  see 
that  the  general  attention  was  directed  toward  his  com- 
panion. He  profited  by  this  distraction  to  slip  away 
among  the  crowd,  without  even  thanking  the  worthy 
priests  who  accompanied  him.  Decidedly  man  is  an  un- 
grateful and  egotistical  animal.  But  dress  yourself;  see, 
M.  de  Morcerf  sets  you  the  example." 

Albert  was  in  reality  drawing  on  the  satin  pantaloons 
over  his  black  trousers  and  varnished  boots. 

"  Well,  Albert,"  said  Franz,  "  do  you  feel  much  inclined 
to  join  the  revels?  Come,  answer  frankly." 

"  Ma  foi  I  no,"  returned  Albert. 

"  But  I  am  really  glad  to  have  seen  such  a  sight;  and  I 
understand  what  M.  le  Comte  said — that  when  you  have 
once  habituated  yourself  to  a  similar  spectacle,  it  is  the 
only  one  that  causes  you  any  emotion." 

"  Without  reflecting  that  this  is  the  only  moment  in 
which  you  can  study  characters,"  said  the  count;  "  on  the 
steps  of  the  scaffold  death  tears  off  the  mask  that  has  been 
worn  through  life,  and  the  real  visage  is  disclosed.  It 
must  be  allowed  Andrea  was  not  very  handsome,  the  hid- 
eous scoundrel!  Come,  dress  yourselves,  gentlemen,  dress 
yourselves." 

Franz  felt  it  would  be  ridiculous  not  to  follow  his  two 
companions'  example.  He  assumed  his  costume,  and  fast- 
ened on  his  mask,  that  scarcely  equaled  the  pallor  of  his 
own  face.  Their  toilet  finished,  they  descended;  the  car- 
riage awaited  them  at  the  door,  filled  with  sweetmeats  and 
bouquets.  They  fell  into  the  line  of  carriages.  It  is  dif- 
ficult to  form- an  idea  of  the  perfect  change  that  had  taken 
place.  Instead  of  the  spectacle  of  gloomy  and  silent  death, 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRI8TO  399 

the  Place  del  Popolo  presented  a  spectacle  of  gay  and 
noisy  mirth  and  revelry.  A  crowd  of  masks  flowed  in 
from  all  sides,  escaping  from  the  doors,  descending  from 
the  windows.  From  every  street  and  every  turn  drove  car- 
riages filled  with  pierrots,  harlequins,  dominoes,  mar- 
quises, transteveres,  knights,  and  peasants,  screaming, 
fighting,  gesticulating,  whirling  eggs  filled  with  flour,  con- 
fetti, nosegays,  attacking,  with  their  sarcasms  and  their 
missiles,  friends  and  foes,  companions  and  strangers,  indis- 
criminately, without  any  one  taking  offense,  or  doing  any- 
thing else  than  laugh.  Franz  and  Albert  were  like  men 
who,  to  drive  away  a  violent  sorrow,  have  recourse  to  wine, 
and  who,  as  they  drink  and  become  intoxicated,  feel  a 
thick  veil  drawn  between  the  past  and  the  present.  They 
saw,  or  rather  continued  to  see,  the  image  of  what  they 
had  witnessed  ;  but  little  by  little  the  general  vertigo 
seized  them,  and  they  felt  themselves  obliged  to  take  part 
in  the  noise  and  confusion.  A  handful  of  confetti  that 
came  from  a  neighboring  carriage,  and  which,  while  it 
covered  Morcerf  and  his  two  companions  with  dust, 
pricked  his  neck  and  that  portion  of  his  face  uncovered 
by  his  mask  like  a  hundred  pins,  plunged  him  into  the 
general  combat,  in  which  all  the  masks  around  him  were 
engaged.  He  rose  in  his  turn,  and  seizing  handfuls  of 
confetti  and  sweetmeats,  with  which  the  carriage  was  filled, 
cast  them  with  all  the  force  and  address  he  was  master  of. 
The  strife  had  fairly  commenced,  and  the  recollection  of 
what  they  had  seen  half  an  hour  before  was  gradually 
effaced  from  the  young  men's  minds,  so  much  were  they 
occupied  by  the  gay  and  glittering  procession  they  now  be- 
held. As  for  the  Count  of  Monte  Cristo,  he  had  never  for 
an  instant  shown  any  appearance  of  having  been  moved. 
Imagine  the  large  and  splendid  Rue  du  Cours,  bordered 
from  one  end  to  the  other  with  lofty  palaces,  with  their 
balconies  hung  with  carpets  and  their  windows  with 
flags,  at  these  balconies  300,000  spectators — Romans, 
Italians,  strangers  from  all  parts  of  the  world ;  the 
united  aristocracy  of  birth,  wealth,  and  genius ;  lovely 
women  who,  yielding  to  the  influence  of  the  scene,  bend 
over  their  balconies,  or  lean  from  their  windows,  and 
shower  down  confetti,  which  are  returned  by  bouquets;  the 
air  seems  darkened  with  confetti  that  fall,  and  flowers 
that  mount;  in  the  streets  the  lively  crowd,  dressed  in  the 


400  THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO. 

most  fantastic  costumes;  gigantic  cabbages  walked  gravely 
about,  buffaloes'  heads  bellowed  from  men's  shoulders, 
dogs  who  walked  on  their  hind  legs;  in  the  midst  of  all 
this  a  mask  is  lifted,  and,  as  in  Callot's  "  Temptation  of  St. 
Anthony,"  a  lovely  face  is  exhibited,  which  we  would  fain 
follow,  but  from  which  we  are  separated  by  troops  of 
fiends — and  this  will  give  a  faint  idea  of  the  carnival  at 
Rome.  At  the  second  turn  the  count  stopped  the  car- 
riage, and  requested  permission  to  quit  them,  leaving  the 
vehicle  at  their  disposal.  Franz  looked  up — they  were  op- 
posite the  Rospoli  Palace.  At  the  center  window,  the  one 
hung  with  white  damask  with  a  red  cross,  was  a  blue 
domino,  beneath  which  Franz's  imagination  easily  pictured 
the  beautiful  Greek  of  the  Argentina. 

"  Gentlemen,"  said  the  count,  springing  out,  "  when  you 
are  tired  of  being  actors,  and  wish  to  become  spectators  of 
this  scene,  you  know  you  have  places  at  my  windows.  In 
the  meantime,  dispose  of  my  coachman,  my  carriage,  and 
my  servants." 

We  have  forgotten  to  mention,  that  the  count's  coach- 
man was  attired  in  a  bear-skin,  exactly  resembling  Odry's 
in  "  The  Bear  and  the  Pasha  ;"and  the  two  footmen  behind 
were  dressed  up  as  green  monkeys,  with  spring  masks, 
with  which  they  made  grimaces  at  every  one  who  passed. 
Franz  thank  the  count  for  his  attention.  As  for  Albert, 
he  was  busily  occupied  throwing  bouquets  at  a  carriage  full 
of  Roman  peasants  that  was  passing  near  him.  Unfortu- 
nately for  him,  the  line  of  carriages  moved  on  again,  and 
while  he  descended  the  Place  del  Popolo,  the  other  ascended 
towards  the  Palais  de  Venise. 

"  Ah!  my  dear  fellow!"  said  he  to  Franz;  "you  did  not 

see ?" 

What?" 

'  There,  that  caleche  filled  with  Roman  peasants. " 
<  No." 

e  Well,  I  am  convinced  they  are  all  charming  women." 
'  How  unfortunate  you  were  masked,  Albert!"  said 
Franz;  "  here  was  an  opportunity  of  making  up  for  past 
disappointments. " 

"Oh!"  replied  he,  half  laughing,  half  serious;  "I  hope 
the  carnival  will  not  pass  without  some  amends  in  one 
shape  or  the  other." 

But,  in  spite  of  Albert's  hope,  the  day  passed  unmarked 


THE  CO  UNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO.  401 

by  any  incident,  excepting  meeting  two  or  three  times  the 
caleche  with  the  Roman  peasants.  At  one  of  these  en- 
counters, accidentally  or  purposely,  Albert's  mask  fell  off. 
He  instantly  rose  and  cast  the  remainder  of  the  bouquets 
into  the  carriage.  Doubtless  one  of  the  charming  females 
Albert  had  divined  beneath  their  coquettish  disguise  was 
touched  by  his  gallantry;  for,  in  her  turn,  as  the  carriage 
of  the  two  friends  passed  her,  she  threw  a  bunch  of  violets 
into  it.  Albert  seized  it,  and,  as  Franz  had  no  reason  to 
suppose  it  was  addressed  to  him,  he  suffered  Albert  to  re- 
tain it.  Albert  placed  it  in  his  button-hole  and  the  car- 
riage went  triumphantly  on. 

"  Well,"  said  Franz  to  him;  "  here  is  the  commencement 
of  an  adventure." 

"  Laugh  if  you  please — I  really  think  so.  So  I  will  not 
abandon  this  bouquet." 

"  Pardieu!"  returned  Franz,  laughing,  "in  token  of 
your  ingratitude."  The  jest,  however,  soon  appeared  to 
become  earnest;  for,  when  Albert  and  Franz  again  en- 
countered the  carriage  with  the  contadini,  the  one  who 
had  thrown  the  violets  to  Albert,  clapped  her  hands  when 
she  beheld  them  in  his  button-hole.  "  Bravo!  bravo!" 
said  Franz;  "  things  go  wonderfully.  Shall  I  leave  you? 
Perhaps  you  would  prefer  being  alone?" 

"  No;"  replied  he;  "  I  will  not  be  caught  like  a  fool  at  a 
first  demonstration  by  a  rendezvous  beneath  the  cloak,  as 
they  say  at  the  opera-balls.  If  the  fair  peasant  wishes  to 
carry  matters  any  further  we  shall  find  her,  or  rather,  she 
will  find  us  to-morrow;  then  she  will  give  me  some  sign  or 
other  and  I  shall  know  what  I  have  to  do." 

"On  my  word,"  said  Franz,  "you  are  wise  as  Nestor 
and  prudent  as  Ulysses  and  your  fair  Circe  must  be  very 
skillful  or  very  powerful  if  she  succeed  in  changing  you 
into  a  beast  of  any  kind."  Albert  was  right;  the  fair  un- 
known had  resolved,  doubtless,  to  carry  the  intrigue  no 
farther;  for,  although  the  young  men  made  several  more 
turns,  they  did  not  tigain  see  the  caliche,  which  had  turned 
up  one  of  the  neighboring  streets.  Then  they  returned  to 
the  Rospoli  Palace;  but  the  count  and  the  blue  domino  had 
also  disappeared;  the  two  windows,  hung  with  yellow 
damask,  were  still  occupied  by  the  persons  whom  the  count 
had  invited.  At  this  moment  the  same  bell  that  had  pro- 
claimed the  commencement  of  the  mascherata  sounded  the 


402  THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO. 

retreat.  The  file  on  the  Corso  broke  the  line  and  in  a 
second  all  the  carriages  had  disappeared.  Franz  and 
Albert  were  opposite  the  Via  delle  Maratte;  the  coachman, 
without  saying  a  word,  drove  up  to  it,  passed  along  the 
Place  d'Espagne  and  the  Rospoli  Palace  and  stopped  at  the 
door  of  the  hotel.  Maitre  Pastrini  came  to  the  door  to  re- 
ceive his  guests.  Franz's  first  care  was  to  inquire  after  the 
count  and  to  express  his  regret  that  he  had  not  returned 
in  sufficient  time  to  take  him;  but  Pastrini  reassured  him 
by  saying,  that  the  Count  of  Monte  Cristo  had  ordered  a 
second  carriage  for  himself,  and  that  it  had  gone  at  4 
o'clock  to  fetch  him  from  the  Rospoli  Palace.  The  count 
had,  moreover,  charged  him  to  offer  the  two  friends  the 
key  of  his  box  at  the  Argentina.  Franz  questioned  Albert 
as  to  his  intentions;  but  Albert  had  great  projects  to  put 
into  execution  before  going  to  the  theater;  and,  instead  of 
making  any  answer,  he  inquired  if  Maitre  Pastrini  could 
procure  him  a  tailor. 

"A  tailor!"  said  the  host;  "  and  for  what  ?" 

"  To  make  us  between  now  and  to-morrow  two  costumes 
of  Roman  peasants,"  returned  Albert.  The  host  shook  his 
head.  "  To  make  you  two  costumes  between  now  and  to- 
morrow? I  ask  your  excellencies'  pardon,  but  this  is  a 
demand  quite  French;  for  the  next  week  you  will  not  find 
a  single  tailor  who  would  consent  to  sew  six  buttons 
on  a  waistcoat  if  you  paid  him  a  crown  a  piece  for  each 
button." 

"  Then  I  must  give  up  the  idea?" 

"  No;  we  have  them  ready-made.  Leave  all  to  me;  and 
to-morrow,  when  you  wake,  you  shall  find  a  collection  of 
costumes  with  which  you  will.be  satisfied." 

"  My  dear  Albert,"  said  Franz,  "leave  all  to  our  host; 
he  has  already  proved  himself  full  of  resources ;  let  us 
dine  quietly  and  afterward  go  and  see  'Tltalienne  a 
Alger!'" 

"Agreed,"  returned  Albert;  "but  recollect,  Maitre  Pas- 
trini, that  both  my  friend  and  myself  attach  the  greatest 
importance  to  having  to-morrow  the  costumes  we  have 
asked  for."  The  host  again  assured  them  they  might  rely 
on  him  and  that  their  wishes  should  be  attended  to;  upon 
which  Franz  and  Albert  mounted  to  their  apartments  and 
proceeded  to  disencumber  themselves  of  their  costume. 
Albert,  as  he  took  off  his  dress,  carefully  preserved  the 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO.  403 

bunch  of  violets;  it  was  his  sign  of  recognition  for  the 
morrow.  The  two  friends  sat  down  to  table;  but  they 
could  not  refrain  from  remarking  the  difference  between 
the  table  of  the  Count  of  Monte  Cristo  and  that  of  Maitre 
Pastrini.  Truth  compelled  Franz,  spite  of  the  dislike  he 
seemed  to  have  taken  to  the  count,  to  confess  that  the  ad- 
vantage was  not  on  Pastrini's  side.  During  dessert,  the 
servant  inquired  at  what  time  they  wished  for  the  carriage. 
Albert  and  Franz  looked  at  each  other,  fearing  really  to 
abuse  the  count's  kindness.  The  servant  understood  them. 
"  His  excellency,  the  Count  of  Monte  Cristo  had/'  he  said, 
"  given  positive  orders  that  the  carriage  was  to  remain  at 
their  lordships'  orders  all  the  day  and  they  could,  there- 
fore, dispose  of  it  without  fear  of  indiscretion." 

They  resolved  to  profit  by  the  count's  courtesy  and 
ordered  the  horses  to  be  harnessed,  while  they  substituted 
an  evening  costume  for  that  which  they  had  on  and  which 
was  somewhat  the  worse  for  the  numerous  combats  they 
had  sustained.  This  precaution  taken,  they  went  to  the 
theater  and  installed  themselves  in  the  count's  box. 

During  the  first  act  the  Countess  Gr entered  her's.  Her 

first  look  was  at  the  loge  where  she  had  seen  the  count 
the  previous  evening,  so  that  she  perceived  Franz  and 
Albert  in  the  box  of  the  very  person  concerning  whom  she 
had  expressed  so  strange  an  opinion  to  Franz.  Her  opera- 
glass  was  so  fixedly  directed  toward  them  that  Franz  saw 
it  would  be  cruel  not  to  satisfy  her  curiosity;  and,  availing 
himself  of  one  of  the  privileges  of  the  spectators  of  the 
Italian  theater,  which  consists  in  using  their  boxes  as  their 
drawing-room,  the  two  friends  quitted  their  box  to  pay 
their  respects  to  the  countess.  Scarcely  had  they  entered 
the  loge  when  she  motioned  to  Franz  to  assume  the  seat  of 
honor.  Albert,  in  his  turn,  sat  behind. 

"  Well,"  said  she,  hardly  giving  Franz  time  to  sit  down, 
"  it  seems  you  have  nothing  better  to  do  than  to  make  the 
acquaintance  of  this  new  Lord  Ruthven,  and  you  are  the 
best  friends  in  the  world." 

"  Without  being  so  far  advanced  as  that,  Mme.  la  Com- 
tesse,"  returned  Franz,  "  I  cannot  deny  we  have  abused 
his  good  nature  all  day." 

"All  day?" 

"  Yes;  this  morning  we  breakfasted  with  him;  we  rode 
in  his  carriage  all  day,  and  now  we  have  taken  possession 
of  his  box." 


404  THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  C'RISTO. 

"  You  know  him,  then  ?" 

"  Yes,  and  no." 

"  How  so  ?" 

"  It  is  a  long  story." 

"  Relate  it  to  me." 

"It  would  frighten  you  too  much." 

"  Another  reason  ?" 

"  At  least  wait  until  the  story  has  a  conclusion." 

"  Very  well;  I  prefer  complete  histories;  but  tell  me  how 
you  made  his  acquaintance  ?  Did  any  one  introduce  you 
to  him  ?'; 

"  No;  it  was  he  who  introduced  himself  to  us." 

"  When  ?" 

"  Last  night,  after  we  left  you." 

"  Through  what  medium  ?" 

"  The  very  prosaic  one  of  our  landlord." 

"  He  is  staying,  then,  at  the  H6tel  des  Londres  with 
you?" 

"  Not  only  in  the  same  h6tel,  but  on  the  same  floor." 

"  What  is  his  name;  for,  of  course,  you  know  ?" 

"The  Count  of  Monte  Cristo." 

"  That  is  not  a  family  name  ?" 

"No,  it  is  the  name  of  the  isle  he  has  purchased." 

"  And  he  is  a  count  ?" 

"  A  Tuscan  count." 

"  Well,  we  must  put  up  with  that,"  said  the  countess, 
Who  was  herself  of  one  of  the  oldest  families  of  Venice. 

"  What  sort  of  a  man  is  he  ?" 

"Ask  the  Vicomte  de  Morcerf." 

"  You  hear,  M.  de  Morcerf,  I  am  referred  to  you,"  said 
the  countess. 

"  We  should  be  very  hard  to  please,  madam,"  returned 
Albert,  "  did  we  not  think  him  delightful;  a  friend  of  ten 
years'  standing  could  not  have  done  more  for  us,  or  with  a 
more  perfect  courtesy." 

"  Come,"  observed  the  countess,  smiling,  "  I  see  my 
vampire  is  only  some  millionaire,  who  has  taken  the  ap- 
pearance of  Lara  in  order  to  avoid  being  confounded  with 
M.  de  Rothschild;  and  you  have  seen  her  ?" 

"  Her  r 

"  The  beautiful  Greek  of  yesterday." 

"  No;  we  heard,  I  think,  the  sound  of  her  guzla,  but  she 
remained  perfectly  invisible." 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRI8TO.  405 

"  When  you  say  invisible,"  intermpted  Albert,  "it  is 
only  to  keep  up  the  mystery;  for  whom  do  you  take  the 
blue  domino  at  the  window  with  the  white  curtains  ?" 

"  Where  was  this  window  with  the  white  hangings  ?" 
said  the  countess. 

"At  the  Rospoli  Palace." 

"  The  count  had  three  windows  at  the  Rospoli  Palace  ?" 

"  Yes.     Did  you  pass  through  the  Rue  de  Cours  ?" 

"Yes." 

"  Well,  did  you  remark  two  windows  hung  with  yellow 
damask,  and  one  with  white  damask  with  a  red  cross? 
Those  were  the  count's  windows  ?" 

"  Why,  he  must  be  a  nabob  !  Do  you  know  what  those 
three  windows  were  worth  ?" 

"  Two  or  three  hundred  Roman  crown  ?" 

e<  Two  or  three  thousand  I" 

"  The  devil !" 

"Does  his  isle  produce  him  such  a  revenue  ?" 

"  It  does  not  bring  him  a  bajocco." 

"  Then  why  did  he  purchase  it  ?" 

"  For  a  whim." 

"He  is  an  original,  then  ?" 

"  In  reality,"  observed  Albert,  "  he  seemed  to  me  some- 
what eccentric;  were  he  at  Paris,  and  a  frequenter  of  the 
theaters,  I  should  say  he  was  a  poor  devil  literally  mad. 
This  morning  he  made  two  or  three  exits  worthy  of  Didier 
or  Anthony." 

At  this  moment  a  fresh  visitor  entered,  and,  according 
to  custom,  Franz  gave  up  his  seat  to  him.  This  circum- 
stance had,  moreover,  the  effect  of  changing  the  conversa- 
tion; an  hour  afterward  the  two  friends  returned  to  their 
hotel.  Maitre  Pastrini  had  already  set  about  procuring 
their  disguises  for  the  morrow;  and  he  assured  them  they 
would  be  perfectly  satisfied.  The  next  morning,  at  9 
o'clock,  he  entered  Franz's  room,  followed  by  a  tailor,  who 
had  eight  or  ten  costumes  of  Roman  peasants  on  his  arm; 
they  selected  two  exactly  alike,  and  charged  the  tailor  to 
sew  on  each  of  their  hats  about  twenty  yards  of  ribbon, 
and  to  procure  them  two  of  those  long  silken  sashes  of  dif- 
ferent colors  with  which  the  lower  orders  decorate  them- 
selves on  fe'te-days.  Albert  was  impatient  to  see  how  he 
looked  in  his  new  dress;  it  was  a  jacket  and  breeches  of 
blue  velvet,  silk  stockings  witli  clocks,  shoes  with  buckles, 

i'u-MAs— VOL.  I.— 18 


406  THE  COUNT  OF  MONfTE  CRI8TO. 

and  a  silk  waistcoat.  This  picturesque  attire  set  him  off 
to  great  advantage;  and  when  he  had  bound  the  scarf 
around  his  waist,  and  when  his  hat,  placed  coquettishly  on 
one  side,  let  fall  on  his  shoulder  a  stream  of  ribbons,  Franz 
was  forced  to  confess  that  costume  has  much  to  do  with  the 
physical  superiority  we  accord  to  certain  nations.  The 
Turks,  who  used  to  be  so  picturesque  with  their  long  and 
flowing  robes,  are  they  not  now  hideous  with  their  blue 
frocks  buttoned  up  to  the  chin,  and  their  red  caps,  which 
make  them  look  like  a  bottle  of  wine  with  a  red  seal? 
Franz  complimented  Albert,  who  looked  himself  in  the 
glass  with  an  unequivocal  smile  of  satisfaction.  They 
were  thus  engaged  when  the  Count  of  Monte  Cristo  entered. 

"  Gentlemen,"  said  he,  ' '  although  a  companion  is 
agreeable,  perfect  freedom  is  sometimes  still  more  agree- 
able. I  come  to  say  that  to-day,  and  the  remainder  of 
the  carnival,  I  leave  the  carriage  entirely  at  your  disposal. 
The  host  will  tell  you  I  have  three  or  four  more,  so  that 
you  do  not  deprive  me  in  any  way  of  it.  Employ  it,  I  pray 
you,  for  your  pleasure  or  your  business." 

The  young  men  wished  to  decline,  but  they  could  find 
no  good  reason  for  refusing  an  offer  which  was  so  agreeable 
to  them.  The  Count  of  Monte  Cristo  remained  a  quarter 
of  an  hour  with  them,  conversing  on  all  subjects  with  the 
greatest  ease.  He  was,  as  we  have  already  said,  perfectly 
well  acquainted  with  the  literature  of  all  countries.  A 
glance  of  the  walls  of  his  salon  proved  to  Franz  and  Albert 
that  he  was  a  amateur  of  pictures.  A  few  words  he  let  fall 
showed  them  he  was  no  stranger  to  the  sciences,  and  he 
seemed  much  occupied  with  chemistry.  The  two  friends 
did  not  venture  to  return  the  count  the  breakfast  he  had 
given  them;  it  would  have  been  too  absurd  to  offer  him  in 
exchange  for  his  excellent  table  the  very  inferior  one  of 
Maitre  Pastrini.  They  told  him  so  frankly,  and  he  re- 
ceived their  excuses  with  the  air  of  a  man  who  appreciated 
their  delicacy.  Albert  was  charmed  with  the  count's  man- 
ners, and  he  was  only  prevented  from  recognizing  him  for  a 
veritable  gentleman  by  his  science.  The  permission  to  do 
what  he  liked  with  the  carriage  pleased  him  above  all,  for 
the  fair  peasants  had  appeared  in  a  most  elegant  carriage 
the  preceding  evening,  and  Albert  was  not  sorry  to  be  up- 
on an  equal  footing  with  them.  At  1:30  they  descended, 
the  coachman  and  footman  had  put  on  their  livery  over 


THE  CO  UNT  OF  MONTE  CRI8TO.  407 

their  disguises,  which  gave  them  a  more  ridiculous  ap- 
pearance than  ever,  and  which  gained  them  the  applause 
of  Franz  and  Albert.  Albert  had  fastened  the  faded  bunch 
of  violets  to  his  button-hole.  At  the  first  sound  of  the  bel! 
they  hastened  into  the  Rue  de  Cours  by  the  Via  Vittoria. 
At  the  second  turn,  a  bunch  of  fresh  violets,  thrown  from 
a  carriage  filled  with  paillassines,  indicated  to  Albert  that, 
like  himself  and  his  friend,  the  peasants  had  changed  their 
costume  also;  and  whether  it  was  the  result  of  chance,  or 
whether  a  similar  feeling  had  possessed  them  both,  while 
he  had  changed  his  costume  they  had  assumed  his. 

Albert  placed  the  fresh  bouquet  in  his  button-hole,  but 
he  kept  the  faded  one  in  his  hand;  and  when  he  again 
met  the  caleche  he  raised  it  to  his  lips,  an  action  which 
seemed  greatly  to  amuse  not  only  the  fair  lady  who  had 
thrown  it  but  her  joyous  companions  also.  The  day  was  as 
gay  as  the  preceding  one,  perhaps  even  more  animated 
and  noisy;  the  count  appeared  for  an  instant  at  his  win- 
dow, but  when  they  again  passed  he  had  disappeared.  It 
is  almost  needless  to  say  that  the  flirtation  between  Albert 
and  the  fair  peasant  continued  all  day.  In  the  evening 
on  his  return  Franz  found  a  letter  from  the  embassy  to 
inform  him  he  would  have  the  honor  of  being  received  by 
his  holiness  the  next  day.  At  each  previous  visit  he  had 
made  to  Rome  he  had  solicited  and  obtained  the  same 
favor,  and  incited  as  much  by  a  religious  feeling  as  by 
gratitude  he  was  unwilling  to  quit  the  capital  of  the  Chris- 
tian world  without  laying  his  respectful  homage  at  the 
feet  of  one  of  St.  Peter's  successors  who  has  set  the  rare 
example  of  all  virtues.  He  did  not  then  think  of  the 
carnival,  for  in  spite  of  his  condescension  and  touching 
kindness  one  cannot  incline  one's  self  without  awe  before 
the  venerable  and  noble  old  man  called  Gregory  XVI.  On 
his  return  from  the  Vatican  Franz  carefully  avoided  the 
Rue  de  Cours;  he  brought  away  with  him  a  treasure  of 
pious  thoughts,  to  which  the  mad  gayety  of  the  mascherata 
would  have  been  profanation.  At  5:10  o'clock  Albert  en- 
tered overjoyed.  The  paillassine  had  reassumed  her  peas- 
ant's costume,  and  as  she  passed  she  raised  her  mask.  She 
was  charming.  Franz  congratulated  Albert,  who  received 
his  congratulations  with  the  air  of  a  man  conscious  they 
are  merited.  He  had  recognized  by  certain  unmistakable 
signs  that  his  fair  incognita  belonged  to  the  aristocracy. 


408  THE  CO  UNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO. 

He  had  made  up  his  mind  to  write  to  her  the  next  day. 
Franz  remarked  while  he  gave  these  details  that  Albert 
seemed  to  have  something  to  ask  of  him,  but  that  he  was 
unwilling  to  ask  it.  He  insisted  upon  it,  declaring  be- 
forehand that  he  was  willing  to  make  any  sacrifice  he  re- 
quired. Albert  let  himself  be  pressed  just  as  long  as 
friendship  required,  and  then  avowed  to  Franz  that  he 
would  do  him  a  great  favor  by  suffering  him  to  occupy  the 
carriage  alone  the  next  day.  Albert  attributed  to  Franz's 
absence  the  extreme  kindness  of  the  fair  peasant  in  raising 
her  mask.  Franz  was  not  sufficiently  egotistical  to  stop 
Albert  in  the  middle  of  an  adventure  that  promised  to 
prove  so  agreeable  to  his  curiosity  and  so  flattering  to  his 
vanity.  He  felt  assured  that  the  perfect  indiscretion  of 
his  friend  would  duly  inform  him  of  all  that  happened; 
and  as,  during  three  years  that  he  had  traveled  all  over 
Italy,  a  similar  piece  of  good  fortune  had  never  fallen  to 
his  share,  Franz  was  by  no  means  sorry  to  learn  how  to  act 
on  such  an  occasion.  He  therefore  promised  Albert  that 
he  would  content  himself  on  the  morrow  with  witnessing  the 
carnival  from  the  windows  of  the  Rospoli  Palace. 

The  next  morning  he  saw  Albert  pass  and  repass.  He 
held  an  enormous  bouquet,  which  he  doubtless  meant  to 
make  the  bearer  of  his  amorous  epistle.  This  belief  was 
changed  into  certainty  when  Franz  saw  the  bouquet  (re- 
markable by  a  circle  of  white  camellias)  in  the  hand  of  a 
charming  paillassine  dressed  in  rose-colored  satin.  The 
evening  was  no  longer  joy,  but  delirium.  Albert  nothing 
doubted  but  that  the  fair  unknown  would  reply  in  the 
same  manner.  Franz  anticipated  his  wishes  by  telling 
him  the  noise  fatigued  him  and  that  he  should  pass  the 
next  day  in  writing  and  looking  over  his  journal.  Albert 
was  not  deceived,  for  the  next  evening  Franz  sa\v  him 
enter  shaking  triumphantly  a  folded  paper  he  held  uy  one 
corner. 

"  Well,"  said  he,  "  was  I  mistaken?" 

"  She  has  answered  you!"  cried  Franz. 

"Read!" 

This  word  was  pronounced  in  a  manner  impossible  to 
describe.  Franz  took  the  letter  and  read : 

"  Tuesday  evening,  at  7  o'clock,  descend  from  your  car- 
riage opposite  the  Via  dei  Ponteficl  and  follow  the  Roman 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO.  409 

peasant  who  snatches  your  moccoletto  from  you.  When 
you  arrive  at  the  first  step  of  the  church  of  San  Giacomo 
be  sure  to  fasten  a  knot  of  rose-colored  ribbons  to  the 
shoulder  of  your  costume  of  paillasse  in  order  that  you 
may  be  recognized.  Until  then  you  will  not  see  me. 

"CONSTANCY    AND   DISCRETION." 

"Well,"  asked  he,  when  Franz  had  finished,  "what  do 
you  think  of  that?" 

"  I  think  that  the  adventure  is  assuming  a  very  agree- 
able appearance." 

"I  think  so,  also,"  replied  Albert;  "and  I  very  much 
fear  you  will  go  alone  to  the  Duke  of  Bracciano's  ball." 

Franz  and  Albert  had  received  that  morning  an  invita- 
tion from  the  celebrated  Koman  banker. 

"  Take  care,  Albert,"  said  Franz.  "  All  the  nobility  of 
Rome  will  be  present;  and  if  your  fair  incognita  belong  to 
the  higher  class  of  society  she  must  go  there." 

"  Whether  she  goes  there  or  not,  my  opinion  is  still  the 
same,"  returned  Albert.  "  You  have  read  the  letter?" 

"Yes." 

"  You  know  how  imperfectly  the  women  of  the  mezzo 
cito  [this  is  the  name  of  the  lower  class]  are  educated  in 
Italy?" 

"Yes." 

"  Well,  read  the  letter  again.  Look  at  the  writing  and 
find  a  fault  in  the  language  or  orthography." 

The  writing  was  in  reality  charming  and  the  ortho- 
graphy irreproachable. 

"  You  are  born  to  good  fortune,"  said  Franz,  as  he  re- 
turned the  letter. 

"  Laugh  as  much  as  you  will,"  replied  Albert,  "  I  am 
in  love. 

"You  alarm  me,"  cried  Franz.  "  I  see  that  I  shall  not 
only  go  alone  to  the  Duke  of  Bracciano's,  but  also  return 
to  Florence  alone." 

"  If  my  unknown  be  as  amiable  as  she  is  beautiful,"  said 
Albert,  "  I  shall  fix  myself  at  Rome  for  six  weeks  at  least. 
I  adore  Rome  and  I  have  always  had  a  great  taste  for 
archaeology." 

"  Come,  two  or  three  more  such  adventures  and  I  do 
not  despair  of  seeing  you  a  member  of  the  academy." 

Doubtless  Albert  was  about  to  discuss  seriously  his  right 


410  THE  CO  UNT  OF  MONTE  CRI8TO. 

to  the  academic  chair  when  they  were  informed  dinner 
was  ready.  Albert's  love  had  not  taken  away  his  appetite. 
He  hastened  with  Franz  to  seat  himself,  free  to  recom- 
mence the  discussion  after  dinner.  After  dinner  the 
Count  of  Monte  Cristo  was  announced.  They  had  not 
seen  him  for  two  days.  Maitre  Pastrini  informed  them 
that  business  had  called  him  to  Civita  Vecchia.  He  had 
started  the  previous  evening  and  had  only  returned  an 
hour  since.  He  was  charming.  Whether  he  kept  a  watch 
over  himself  or  whether  accident  did  not  sound  the  acri- 
monious chords  that  certain  circumstances  had  already 
touched  he  was  like  everybody  else.  This  man  was  an 
enigma  to  Franz.  The  count  must  feel  sure  he  recognized 
him,  and  yet  he  had  not  let  fall  a  single  word  that  indi- 
cated he  had  seen  him  anywhere.  On  his  side,  however 
great  Franz's  desire  was  to  allude  to  their  former  inter- 
view, the  fear  of  its  being  disagreeable  to  the  man  who 
had  loaded  himself  and  his  friend  with  kindness  prevented 
him  from  mentioning  it.  The  count  had  learned  the  two 
friends  had  sent  to  secure  a  box  at  the  Argentina  theater 
and  were  told  they  were  all  let.  In  consequence,  he 
brought  them  the  key  of  his  own — at  least,  such  was  the 
apparent  motive  of  his  visit.  Franz  and  Albert  made 
some  difficulty,  alleging  their  fear  of  depriving  him  of  it; 
but  the  count  replied  that,  as  he  was  going  to  the  Palli 
theater,  the  box  at  the  Argentina  theater  would  be  lost 
if  they  did  not  profit  by  it.  This  assurance  determined 
the  two  friends  to  accept  it. 

Franz  had  become  by  degrees  accustomed  to  the  count's 
paleness,  which  had  so  forcibly  struck  him  the  first  time 
he  saw  him.  He  could  not  refrain  from  admiring  the 
severe  beauty  of  his  features,  the  only  defect,  or  rather  the 
principal  quality  of  which  was  the  pallor.  Veritable  hero 
of  Byron  !  Franz  could  not  (we  will  not  say  see  him,  but) 
even  think  of  him  without  representing  his  stearn  head  on 
the  shoulders  of  Manfred,  or  beneath  the  casque  of  Lara. 
His  forehead  was  marked  by  the  line  that  indicates  the 
constant  presence  of  a  bitter  thought ;  he  had  those  fiery 
eyes  that  seem  to  penetrate  to  the  heart ;  and  the  haughty 
and  disdainful  upper  lip  that  gives  to  the  words  it  utters 
a  peculiar  character  that  impresses  them  on  the  minds  of 
those  to  whom  they  are  addressed.  The  count  was  no 
longer  young.  He  was  at  least  40  ;  and  yet  it  was  easy  to 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRI8TO.  4H 

understand  he  was  formed  to  rule  the  young  men  with 
whom  he  associated  at  present.  In  reality,  to  complete  his 
resemblance  with  the  fantastic  heroes  of  the  English  poet, 
the  count  seemed  to  have  the  power  of  fascination.  Albert 
was  constantly  expatiating  on  their  good  fortune  in  meet- 
ing such  a  man.  Franz  was  less  enthusiastic ;  but  the 
count  exercised  over  him  also  the  ascendency  a  strong  mind 
always  acquires.  He  thought  several  times  of  the  project 
the  count  had  of  visiting  Paris  ;  and  he  had  no  doubt  but 
that,  with  his  eccentric  character,  his  characteristic  face, 
and  his  colossal  fortune,  he  would  produce  a  great  effect 
there.  And  yet  he  did  not  wish  to  be  at  Paris  when  the 
count  was  there.  The  evening  passed  as  evenings  mostly 
pass  at  Italian  theaters  ;  that  is,  not  in  listening  to  the 
music,  but  in  paying  visits  and  conversing.  The  Countess 

G wished  to  revive  the  subject  of  the  count,  but  Franz 

announced  he  had  something  far  newer  to  tell  her  ;  and,  in 
spite  of  Albert's  demonstrations  of  false  modesty,  he  in- 
formed the  countess  of  the  great  event  which  had  pre- 
occupied them  for  the  last  three  days.  As  similar  intrigues 
are  not  uncommon  in  Italy,  if  we  may  credit  travelers,  the 
countess  did  not  manifest  the  least  increduality,  but  con- 
gratulated Albert  on  his  success.  They  promised,  upon 
separating,  to  meet  at  the  Duke  of  Bracciano's  ball,  to 
which  all  Rome  was  invited.  The  heroine  of  the  bouquet 
kept  her  word  ;  she  gave  Albert  no  sign  of  her  existence 
the  morrow  and  day  after. 

At  length  arrived  the  Tuesday,  the  last  and  most  tumult- 
ous  day  of  the  carnival.  The  Tuesday,  the  theaters  open 
at  10  o'clock  in  the  morning,  as  Lent  begins  after  8  o'clock 
at  night.  The  Tuesday,  all  those  who  through  want  of 
money,  time  or  enthusiasm,  have  not  been  to  see  the  car- 
nival before,  mingle  in  the  gaiety,  and  contribute  to  the 
noise  and  excitement.  From  2  o'clock  till  5  o'clock  Franz 
and  Albert  followed  in  the  fe'te,  exchanging  handfuls  of 
confetti  with  the  other  carriages  and  the  pedestrians,  who 
crowded  among  the  horses'  feet  and  the  carriage  wheels 
without  a  single  accident,  a  single  dispute,  or  a  single 
fight.  The  fetes  are  veritable  days  of  pleasure  to  the 
Italians.  The  author  of  this  history,  who  has  resided  five 
or  six  years  in  Italy,  does  not  recollect  to  have  ever  seen  a 
ceremony  interrupted  by  one  of  those  events  so  common  in 
other  countries.  Albert  was  triumphant  in  his  costume  of 


412  THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO. 

paillasse.  A  -knot  of  rose-colored  ribbons  fell  from  his 
shoulder  almost  to  the  ground.  In  order  that  there  might 
be  no  confusion,  Franz  wore  his  peasant's  costume. 

As  the  day  advanced,  the  tumult  became  greater.  There 
was  not  on  the  pavement,  in  the  carriages,  at  the  windows. 
a  single  tongue  that  was  silent,  a  single  arm  that  did  not 
move.  It  was  a  human  storm,  composed  of  a  thunder  of 
cries,  and  a  hail  of  sweatmeats,  flowers,  eggs,  oranges,  and 
nosegays.  At  3  o'clock  the  sound  of  fireworks,  let  off  on 
the  Place  del  Popolo  and  the  Place  de  Venise  (heard  with 
difficulty  amid  the  din  and  confusion)  announced  that  the 
races  were  about  to  begin.  The  races,  like  the  moccoli,  are 
one  of  the  episodes  peculiar  to  the  last  days  of  the  carnival. 
At  the  sound  of  the  fireworks  the  carriages  instantly  broke 
the  ranks,  and  retired  by  the  adjacent  streets.  All  these 
evolutions  are  executed  with  an  inconceivable  address  and 
marvellous  rapidity,  without  the  police  interfering  in  the 
matter.  The  pedestrians  ranged  themselves  against  the 
walls ;  then  the  trampling  of  horses  and  the  clashing  of 
steel  were  heard.  A  detachment  of  carbineers,  fifteen 
abreast,  galloped  up  the  Rue  de  Cours  in  order  to  clear  it 
for  the  barberi.  When  the  detachment  arrived  at  the 
Place  de  Venise,  a  second  volley  of  fireworks  was  dis- 
charged, to  announce  that  the  street  was  clear.  Almost 
instantly,  in  the  midst  of  a  tremendous  and  general  out- 
cry, seven  or  eight  horses,  excited  by  the  shouts  of  300,- 
000  spectators,  passed  by  like  lightning.  Then  the  Castle 
of  St.  Angelo  fired  three  cannons  to  indicate  that  No. 
3  had  won.  Immediately,  without  any  other  signal, 
the  carriages  moved  on,  flowing  on  toward  the  Corso, 
down  all  the  streets,  like  torrents  pent  up  for  a  while, 
which  again  flow  into  the  parent  river  ;  and  the  immense 
stream  again  continued  its  course  between  its  two  banks  of 
granite. 

A  new  source  of  noise  and  movement  was  added  to  the 
crowd.  The  sellers  of  moccoletti  entered  on  the  scene. 
The  moccoli,  or  moccoletti,  are  candles  which  vary  in  size 
from  the  pascal  taper  to  the  rushlight,  and  which  cause  the 
actors  on  the  great  scene  which  terminates' the  carnival  two 
different  sources  of  thought,  first,  how  to  preserve  their  moc- 
coletto  alight,  and  second,  how  to  extinguish  the  moccoletti 
of  others.  The  moccoletto  is  like  life  ;  man  has  found  but 
one  means  of  transmitting  it,  and  that  one  comes  from 


THE  CO  UNT  OF  MONTE  CRIS1 0.  413 

God.  But  he  has  discovered  a  1,000  means  of  taking 
it  away,  although  the  devil  has  somewhat  aided  him.  The 
moccoletto  is  kindled  by  approaching  it  to  a  light.  But 
who  can  describe  the  1,000  means  of  extinguishing  the 
moccoletto  f  —  the  gigantic  bellows,  the  monstrous  ex- 
tinguisher, the  superhuman  fans.  Everyone  hastened  to 
purchase  moccoletti — Franz  and  Albert  among  the  rest. 

The  night  was  rapidly  approaching ;  and  already,  at  the 
cry  of  "  Moccoletto !"  repeated  by  the  shrill  voice  of  a  1,000 
vendors,  two  or  three  stars  began  to  burn  among  the 
crowd.  It  was  a  signal.  At  the  end  of  ten  minutes  50,- 
000  lights  glittered,  descending  from  the  Palais  de  Venise 
to  the  Place  del  Popolo,  and  mounting  from  the  Place 
del  Popolo  to  the  Palais  de  Venise.  It  seemed  the  fe'te  of 
Jack-o'-lanterns.  It  is  impossible  to  form  any  idea  of  it 
without  having  seen  it.  Suppose  all  the  stars  had  descended 
from  the  sky  and  mingled  in  a  wild  dance  on  the  face  of 
the  earth  ;  the  whole  accompanied  by  cries  that  were  never 
heard  in  any  other  part  of  the  world.  The  facchino  fol- 
lows the  prince,  the  transtevere  the  citizen,  every  one 
blowing,  extinguishing,  relighting.  Had  old  ^olus  ap- 
peared at  this  moment,  he  would  have  been  proclaimed 
king  of  the  maccoli,  and  Aquilo  the  heir-presumptive  to 
the  throne.  This  flaming  race  continued  for  two  hours  ; 
the  Rue  de  Cours  was  light  as  day;  the  features  of  the 
spectators  on  the  third  and  fourth  stories  were  visible. 
Every  five  minutes  Albert  took  out  his  watch  ;  at  length  it 
pointed  to  7  o'clock.  The  two  friends  were  in  the  Via  dei 
Pontefici.  Albert  sprang  out,  bearing  his  moccoletto  in  his 
hand.  Two  or  three  masks  strove  to  knock  his  moccoletto 
out  of  his  hand;  but  Albert,  a  first-rate  pugilist,  sent  them 
rolling  in  the  street,  one  after  the  other,  and  continued  his 
course  toward  the  church  of  San  Giacomo.  The  steps 
were  crowded  with  masks,  who  strove  to  snatch  each 
other's  flambeau.  Franz  followed  Albert  with  his  eyes 
and  saw  him  mount  the  first  step.  Instantly  a  mask,  wear- 
ing the  well  known  costume  of  a  female  peasant,  snatched 
his  moccoletto  from  him  without  his  offering  any  resistance. 
Franz  was  too  far  off  to  hear  what  they  said,  but,  without 
doubt,  nothing  hostile  passed,  for  he  saw  Albert  disappear 
arm-in-arm  with  the  peasant  girl.  He  watched  them  pass 
through  the  crowd  some  time,  but  at  length  he  lost  sight 
of  them  in  the  Via  Macello.  Suddenly  the  bell  that  gives 


414  TEE  CO  UNT  OF  MONTE  CRI8TO. 

the  signal  for  the  end  of  the  carnival  sounded,  and  at  the 
game  instant  all  the  moccoletti  were  extinguished  as  if  by 
enchantment.  It  seemed  as  though  one  immense  blast  of 
the  wind  had  extinguished  every  one.  Franz  found  him- 
aelf  in  utter  darkness.  No  sound  was  audible  save  that  of 
the  carriages  that  conveyed  the  masks  home;  nothing  was 
visible  save  a  few  lights  that  burned  behind  the  windows. 
The  carnival  was  finished. 


CHAPTER  XXXVII. 

THE  CATACOMBS  OF   ST.    SEBASTIAN. 

IN  his  whole  life,  perhaps,  Franz  had  never  before 
experienced  so  sudden  an  impression,  so  rapid  a  transi- 
tion from  gayety  to  sadness  as  in  this  moment.  It  seemed 
as  though  Rome,  under  the  magic  breath  of  some  demon 
of  the  night,  had  suddenly  changed  into  a  vast  tomb.  By 
a  chance,  which  added  yet  more  to  the  intensity  of  the 
darkness,  the  moon,  which  was  on  the  wane,  did  not  rise 
until  11  o'clock,  and  the  streets  which  the  young  man 
traversed  were  plunged  in  the  deepest  obscurity.  The  dis- 
tance was  short,  and  at  the  end  of  ten  minutes  his  car- 
riage,  or  rather  the  count's,  stopped  before  the  Hdtel  de 
Londres.  Dinner  was  waiting,  but  as  Albert  had  told  him 
that  he  should  not  return  so  soon,  Franz  sat  down  without 
him.  Maitre  Pastrini,  who  had  been  accustomed  to  see 
them  dine  together,  inquired  into  the  cause  of  his  absence, 
but  Franz  merely  replied  that  Albert  had  received,  on  the 
previous  evening,  an  invitation  which  he  had  accepted. 
The  sudden  extinction  of  the  moccoUtti,  the  darkness 
which  had  replaced  the  light,  and  the  silence  which  had 
succeeded  the  turmoil,  had  left  in  Franz's  mind  a  certain 
depression  which  was  not  free  from  uneasiness.  He  there- 
fore dined  very  silently,  in  spite  of  the  officious  attention 
of  his  host,  who  presented  himself  two  or  three  times  to 
inquire  if  he  wanted  anything. 

Franz  resolved  to  wait  for  Albert  as  late  as  possible.  He 
ordered  the  carriage,  therefore,  for  11  o'clock,  desiring 
Maitre  Pastrini  to  inform  him  the  moment  Albert  re- 
turned to  the  hotel.  At  11  o'clock  Albert  had  not  come 
back.  Franz  dressed  himself  and  went  out,  telling  his 


THE  CO  UNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO.  41 5 

host  that  he  was  going  to  pass  the  night  at  the  Duke  of 
Bracciano's.  The  house  of  the  Duke  of  Bracciano  is  one 
of  the  most  delightful  in  Rome;  his  lady,  one  of  the  last 
heiresses  of  the  Colonna's,  does  its  honors  with  the  most 
consummate  grace,  and  thus  their  fetes  have  a  European 
celebrity.  Franz  and  Albert  had  brought  to  Rome  letters 
of  introduction  to  them,  and  the  first  question  on  Franz's 
arrival  was  to  ask  him  where  was  his  traveling  companion. 
Franz  replied  that  he  had  left  him  at  the  moment  they 
were  about  to  extinguish  the  moccoletti,  and  that  he  had 
lost  sight  of  him  in  the  Via  Macellp. 

"  Then  he  has  not  returned?"  said  the  duke. 

"  I  waited  for  him  until  this  hour/'  replied  Franz. 

"  And  do  you  know  whither  he  went?" 

"  No,  not  precisely;  however,  I  think  it  was  something 
very  like  an  assignation." 

"  Diavolo!"  said  the  duke;  "  this  is  a  bad  day,  or  rather 
a  bad  night,  to  be  out  late;  is  it  not,  countess?" 

These  words  were  addressed  to  the  Countess  G ,  who 

had  just  arrived,  and  was  leaning  on  the  arm  of  M.  Tor- 
Ionia,  the  duke's  brother. 

"  I  think,  on  the  contrary,  that  it  is  a  charming  night," 
replied  the  countess,  "  and  those  who  are  here  will  not 
complain  but  of  one  thing — that  of  its  too  rapid  flight." 

"  I  am  not  speaking,"  said  the  duke,  with  a  smile,  "  ol 
the  persons  who  are  here;  the  men  run  no  other  danger 
than  that  of  falling  in  love  with  you,  and  the  women  of 
falling  ill  of  jealousy  at  seeing  you  so  lovely;  I  allude  to 
persons  who  were  out  in  the  streets  of  Rome." 

"  Ah!"  asked  the  countess,  "  who  is  out  in  the  streets  of 
Rome  at  this  hour,  unless  it  be  to  go  to  a  ball?" 

"  Our  friend  Albert  de  Morcerf,  countess,  whom  I  left 
in  pursuit  of  his  unknown  about  7  o'clock  this  evening," 
said  Franz,  "and  whom  I  have  not  seen  since." 

'  And  don't  you  know  where  he  is?" 

'Not  at  all.* 
Is  he  armed  ?" 

'  He  is  en  paillasse." 

'  You  should  not  have  allowed  him  to  go,"  said  the 
duke  to  Franz;  "you,  who  know  Rome  better  than  he 
does." 

"  You  might  as  well  have  tried  to  stop  No.  3  of  the 
barber i,  who  gained  the  prize  in  the  race  to-day," 


416  THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO. 

replied  Franz;  "  and  then,  moreover,  what  could  happen 
to  him?" 

"  Who  can  tell?  The  night  is  gloomy  and  the  Tiber  is 
very  near  the  Via  Macello." 

Franz  felt  a  shudder  run  through  his  veins  at  observing 
the  feeling  of  the  duke  and  the  countess  so  much  in 
unison  with  his  own  personal  disquietude. 

"  I  informed  them  at  the  hotel  that  I  had  the  honor  of 
passing  the  night  here,  duke/' said  Franz,  "and  desired 
them  to  come  and  inform  me  of  his  return." 

"  Ah!"  replied  the  duke,  "  here,  I  think,  is  one  of  my 
servants  who  is  seeking  you." 

The  duke  was  not  mistaken;  when  he  saw  Franz  the 
servant  came  up  to  him. 

"  Your  excellency,"  he  said,  "  the  master  of  the  Hotel 
de  Londres  has  sent  to  let  you  know  that  a  man  is  waiting 
for  you  with  a  letter  from  the  Viscount  de  Morcerf." 

"  A  letter  from  the  viscount!"  exclaimed  Franz. 

"Yes." 

"  And  who  is  the  man?" 

"  I  do  not  know." 

"  Why  did  he  not  bring  it  to  me  here?" 

"  The  messenger  did  not  say." 

"  And  where  is  the  messenger?" 

"  He  went  away  directly  he  saw  me  enter  the  ball-room 
to  find  you." 

"  Ohl"  said  the  countess  to  Franz,  "go  with  all  speed; 
poor  young  man.  Perhaps  some  accident  has  happened  to 
him." 

"  I  will  hasten,"  replied  Franz. 

"  Shall  we  see  you  again  to  give  us  any  information?" 
inquired  the  countess. 

"  Yes  if  it  is  not  any  serious  affair;  otherwise  I  cannot 
answer  as  to  what  I  may  do  myself." 

"  Be  prudent,  in  any  event,"  said  the  countess. 

"  Oh!  pray  be  assured  of  that." 

Franz  took  his  hat  and  went  away  in  haste.  He  had 
sent  away  his  carriage  with  orders  for  it  to  fetch  him  at  2 
o'clock;  fortunately  the  Palazzo  Bracciano,  which  is  on 
one  side  in  the  Rue  de  Cours  and  on  the  other  in  the  Place 
des  Sts.  Apotres,  is  hardly  ten  minutes'  walk  from  the 
Hotel  de  Londres.  As  he  came  near  the  h6tel  Franz  saw 
a  man  in  the  center  of  the  street.  He  had  no  doubt  that 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  VRI8TO.  417 

it  was  the  messenger  from  Albert.  The  man  was  wrapped 
up  in  a  large  cloak.  He  went  up  to  him,  but,  to  his  ex- 
treme astonishment,  this  individual  first  addressed  him. 

"  What  wants  your  excellency  of  me,"  inquired  the  man, 
retreating  a  step  or  two,  as  if  to  keep  on  his  guard. 

"Are  not  you  the  person  who  brought  me  a  letter,"  in- 
quired Franz,  "  from  the  Viscount  de  Morcerf  ?" 

''Your  excellency  lodges  at  Pastrini's  hotel  ?" 

"I  do." 

"Your  excellency  is  the  traveling  companion  of  the 
viscount  ?" 

"I  am." 

"  Your  excellency's  name— — " 

"Is  the  Baron  Franz  d'Epinay." 

"  Then  it  is  to  your  excellency  that  this  letter  is  ad- 


"  Is  there  any  answer  ?"  inquired  Franz,  taking  the  letter 
from  him. 

"Yes — your  friend  at  least  hopes  so." 

"Come  upstairs  with  me,  and  I  will  give  it  to  you." 

"  I  prefer  waiting  here,"  said  the  messenger,  with  a  smile. 

"And  why?" 

"  Your  excellency  will  know  when  you  have  read  the 
letter." 

"  Shall  I  find  you,  then,  here  ?" 

"Certainly."  ' 

Franz  entered  the  hotel.  On  the  staircase  he  met  Maitre 
Pastrini. 

"  Well,"  said  the  landlord. 

"  Well — what  ?"  responded  Franz. 

"  You  have  seen  the  man  who  desired  to  speak  with  you 
from  your  friend  ?"  he  asked  of  Franz. 

"  Yes,  I  have  seen  him,"  he  replied,  "  and  he  has  handed 
this  letter  to  me.  Light  the  candle  in  my  apartment,  if 
you  please." 

The  innkeeper  gave  orders  to  a  servant  to  go  before 
Franz  with  a  bougie.  The  young  man  had  found  Maitre 
Pastrini  looking  very  much  alarmed,  and  this  had  only 
made  him  the  more  anxious  to  read  Albert's  letter;  and 
thus  he  went  instantly  toward  the  waxlight  and  un- 
folded the  letter.  It  was  written  and  signed  by  Albert. 
Franz  read  it  twice  before  he  could  comprehend  what  it 
contained.  It  was  thus  conceived: 


418  THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO. 

"  MY  DEAR  FELLOW:  The  moment  you  have  received 
this,  have  the  kindness  to  take  from  my  pocket-book, 
which  you  will  find  in  the  square  drawer  of  the  secretaire, 
the  letter  of  credit;  add  your  own  to  it,  if  it  be  not  suf- 
ficient. Run  to  Torlonia,  draw  from  him  instantly  4,000 
piastres,  and  give  them  to  the  bearer.  It  is  urgent  that  I 
should  have  this  money  without  delay.  I  do  not  say 
more,  relying  on  you  as  you  may  rely  on  me." 
"  Your  friend, 

"ALBERT   DE   MORCERF." 

"P.  S.— I  now  believe  in  Italian  banditti." 

Below  these  lines  were  written,  in  a  strange  hand,  the 
following  in  Italian: 

"  Se  alle  sei  della  mattina  le  quattro  mila  piastre  non 
sono  nelle  mie  mani,  alle  sette  il  Conte  Alberto  avra  ces- 
sato  di  vivere.  LCTGI  VAMPA." 

"If  by  six  in  the  morning  the  4,000 piastres  are  not  in 
my  hands  by  7  o'clock  the  Viscount  Albert  de  Morcerf  will 
have  ceased  to  live." 

This  second  signature  explained  all  to  Franz,  who  now 
understood  the  ojection  of  the  messenger  to  coming  up  into 
the  apartment;  the  street  was  safer  for  him.  Albert,  then, 
had  fallen  into  the  hands  of  the  famous  chief  of  banditti, 
in  whose  existence  he  had  so  long  a  time  refused  to  believe. 
There  was  no  time  to  lose.  He  hastened  to  open  the  sec- 
retaire and  found  the  pocket-book  in  the  drawer,  and  in  it 
the  letter  of  credit.  There  were  in  all  6,000  piastres,  but 
of  these  6,000  Albert  had  already  expended  3,000.  As  to 
Franz,  he  had  no  letter  of  credit,  as  he  lived  in  Florence 
and  had  only  come  to  Rome  to  pass  seven  or  eight  days;  he 
had  brought  but  100  louis,  and  of  these  he  had  not  more 
that  50  louis  left.  Thus  700  or  800  piastres  were  want- 
ing to  them  both  to  make  up  the  sum  that  Albert  required. 
True,  he  might,  in  such  a  case,  rely  on  the  kindness  of  M. 
Torlonia.  He  was,  therefore,  about  to  return  to  the  Pal- 
azzo Bracciano  without  loss  of  time,  when  suddenly  a 
luminous  idea  crossed  his  mind.  He  remembered  the 
Count  of  Monte  Cristo.  Franz  was  about  to  ring  for 
Maitre  Pastrini  when  that  worthy  presented  himself. 


THE  CO  UNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO.  419 

"My  dear  sir,"  he  said,  hastily,  "do  you  know  if  the 
count  is  within  ?" 

"  Yes,  your  excellency;  he  has  this  moment  returned." 

"Is  he  in  bed?" 

"I  should  say  110." 

"  Then  ring  at  his  door,  if  you  please,  and  request  him  to 
be  so  kind  as  to  give  me  an  audience." 

Maitre  Pastrini  did  as  he  was  desired,  and  returniug  five 
minutes  after,  he  said: 

"  The  count  awaits  your  excellency." 

Franz  went  along  the  corridor,  and  a  servant  introduced 
him  to  the  count.  He  was  in  a  small  cabinet  which  Frana 
had  not  yet  seen,  and  which  was  surrounded  with  divans. 
The  count  came  toward  him. 

"Well,  what  good  wind  blows  you  hither  at  this  hour  ?" 
said  he;  "  have  you  come  to  sup  with  me?  It  would  be 
very  kind  of  you." 

"  No ;  I  have  come  to  speak  to  you  of  a  very  serious 
matter." 

"  A  serious  matter  !"  said  the  count,  looking  at  Franz 
with  the  earnestness  usual  to  him  ;  "  and  what  may  it  be?" 

"Are  we  alone?" 

"  Yes,"  replied  the  count,  going  to  the  door,  and  re- 
turning. 

Franz  gave  him  Albert's  letter. 

"  Read  that,"  he  said. 

The  count  read  it. 

"  Ah  !  ah  !"  said  he. 

"  Did  you  see  the  postscript  ?" 

."  I  did,  indeed." 

"  Se  alle  sei  della  mattina  le  quattro  mila  piastre  non 
sono  nelle  mie  mani,  alle  sette  il  Conte  Alberto  avra  ces- 
eato  di  vivere.  LUIGI  VAMPA." 

"  What  think  you  of  that  ?"  inquired  Franz. 

"Have  you  the  money  he  demands?" 

"Yes,  all  but  800  piastres." 

"  The  count  went  to  his  secretaire,  opened  it,  and  pull- 
ing out  a  drawer  filled  with  gold,  said  to  Franz: 

"  I  hope  you  will  not  oil'end  me  by  applying  to  any  one 
but  myself/' 


420  THE  CO  UNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO. 

"  You  see,  on  the  contrary,  I  come  to  you  first  and  in- 
stantly," replied  Franz. 

"And  I  thank  you;  have  what  you  will ;"  and  he  made  a 
sign  to  Franz  to  take  what  he  pleased. 

"  It  is  absolutely  necessary,  then,  to  send  the  money  to 
Luigi  Vampa  ?"  asked  the  young  man,  looking  fixedly  in 
his  turn  at  the  count." 

"Judge  yourself,"  replied  he.  " The  postscript  is  ex- 
plicit." 

"  I  think  that  if  you  would  take  the  trouble  of  reflect- 
ing, you  could  find  a  way  of  simplifying  the  negotiations," 
said  Franz. 

"  How  so  ?"  returned  the  count,  with  surprise. 

"If  we  were  to  go  together  to  Luigi  Vampa  I  am  sure 
he  would  not  refuse  you  Albert's  freedom." 

"  What  influence  can  I  possibly  have  over  a  bandit  ?" 

"  Have  you  not  just  rendered  him  one  of  those  services 
that  are  never  forgotten  ?" 

"  What  is  that  ?" 

"Have  you  not  saved  Peppino's  life?" 

"Ah!  ah!"  said  the  count,  "  who  told  you  that?" 

"  No  matter,  I  know  it." 

The  count  knit  his  brows,  and  remained  silent  an 
instant. 

"  And  if  I  went  to  seek  Vampa,  would  you  accompany 
me?" 

"It  my  society  would  not  be  disagreeable." 

"  Be  it  BO.  It  is  a  lovely  night,  and  a  walk  without 
Eome  will  do  us  both  good." 

"Shall  I  take  my  arms?" 

"For  what  purpose?" 

"  Any  money  ?'^ 

"  It  is  useless.  Where  is  the  man  who  brought  the 
letter?" 

"In  the  street." 

"He  awaits  the  answer?" 

"Yes." 

"  I  must  lean  where  we  are  going.  I  will  summon  him 
hither." 

"  It  is  useless;  he  would  not  come  up." 

"  To  your  apartments  perhaps;  but  he  will  not  make 
any  difficulty  in  entering  mine." 

The  count  went  to  the  window  of  the  apartment  that 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO.  421 

looked  on  to  the  street,  and  whistled  in  a  peculiar  manner. 
The  man  in  the  mantle  quitted  the  wall;  and  advanced 
into  the  center  of  the  street. 

"  Salite  !  "  said  the  count,  in  the  same  tone  in  which  he 
would  have  given  an  order  to  his  servant. 

The  messenger  obeyed  without  the  least  hesitation,  but 
rather  with  alacrity,  and,  mounting  the  steps  of  a  passage 
at  a  bound  entered  the  hotel;  five  seconds  afterward  he 
was  at  the  door  of  the  cabinet. 

"Ah,  it  is  you,  Peppino,"  said  the  count. 

But  Peppino,  instead  of  answering,  threw  himself  on  his 
knees,  seized  the  count's  hand  and  covered  it  with  kisses. 

"Ah,"  said  the  count,  "  you  have,  then,  not  forgotten 
that'  I  saved,  your  life;  that  is  strange,  for  it  is  a  week 
ago!" 

"  No,  excellency;  and  never  shall  I  forget  it,"  returned 
Peppino,  with  an  accent  of  profound  gratitude. 

"  Never!  That  is  a  long  time;  but  it  is  something  that 
you  believe  so.  Rise  an  answer." 

Peppino  glanced  anxiously  at  Franz. 

"  Oh,  you  may  speak  before  his  excellency,"  said  he; 
"  he  is  one  of  my  friends.  You  allow  me  to  give  you  this 
title?"  continued  the  count  in  French;  "it  is  necessary  to 
.  excite  this  man's  c-onfidence." 

"  You  can  speak  before  me,"  said  Franz;  "  I  am  a  friend 
of  the  count's." 

"Good!"  returned  Peppino.  "I  am  ready  to  answer 
any  questions  your  excellency  may  address  to  me." 

"How  did  the  Viscount  Albert  fall  in  Luigi's  hands?" 

"  Excellency,  the  Frenchman's  carriage  passed  several 
times  the  one  in  which  was  Teresa." 

"  The  chiefs  mistress?" 

"  Yes.  The  Frenchman  threw  her  a  bouquet;  Teresa 
returned  it;  all  this  with  the  consent  of  the  chief,  who  was 
in  the  carriage." 

"What!"  cried  Franz,  "was  Luigi  Vampa  in  the  car- 
riage with  the  Roman  peasants?" 

"  It  was  he  who  drove,  disguised  as  a  coachman,"  replied 
Peppino. 

"  Well?"  said  the  connt. 

"Well,  then,  the  Frenchman  took  off  his  mask;  Teresa, 
with  the  chief's  consent,  did  the  same.  The  Frenchman 
asked  for  a  rendezvous;  Teresa  gave  him  one — only,  in- 


432  THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRI8TO. 

stead  of  Teresa,  it  was  Beppo  who  was  on  the  steps  of  the 
Church  of  San  Q-iacomo." 

"What!"  exclaimed  Franz,  "the  peasant  girl  who 
snatched  his  moccoletto  from  him " 

"  Was  a  lad  of  15,"  replied  Peppino.  "'But  it  was  no 
disgrace  to  your  friend  to  have  been  deceived;  Beppo  has 
taken  in  plenty  of  others." 

"And  Beppo  led  him  outside  the  walls?"  said  the  count. 

"  Exactly  so;  a  carriage  was  waiting  at  the  end  of  Via 
Macello.  Beppo  got  in,  inviting  the  Frenchman  to  follow 
him,  and  he  did  not  wait  to  be  asked  twice.  He  gallantly 
offered  the  right-hand  seat  to  Beppo,  and  sat  by  him. 
Beppo  told  him  he  was  going  to  take  him  to  a  villa  a  league 
from  Rome;  the  Frenchman  assured  him  he  would  follow 
him  to  the  end  of  the  world.  The  coachman  went  up  the 
Hue  di  Ripetta  and  the  Porta  San  Paolo;  and  when  they 
were  200  hundred  yards  outside,  as  the  Frenchman  became 
somewhat  too  forward,  Beppo  put  a  brace  of  pistols  to  his 
head,  the  coachman  pulled  up  and  did  the  same.  At  the 
same  time,  four  of  the  band,  who  were  concealed  on  the 
banks  of  the  Almo,  surrounded  the  carriage.  The  French- 
man made  some  resistance  and  nearly  strangled  Beppo; 
but  he  could  not  resist  five  armed  men,  and  was  forced  to 
yield.  They  made  him  get  out,  walk  along  the  banks  of 
the  river,  and  then  brought  him  to  Teresa  and  Luigi,  who 
were  waiting  for  him  in  the  catacombs  of  St.  Sebastian." 

"Well,"  said  the  count,  turning  toward  Franz,  "it 
seems  to  me  that  this  is  a  very  likely  story.  What  do  you 
say  to  it?" 

"  Why,  that  I  should  think  it  very  amusing,"  replied 
Franz,  "if  it  had  happened  to  any  one  but  poor  Albert." 

"And,  in  truth,  if  you  had  not  found  me  here,"  said 
the  count,  "  it  might  have  proved  a  gallant  adventure 
which  would  have  cost  your  friend  dear  ;  but  now,  be 
assured,  his  alarm  will  be  the  only  serious  consequence." 

"And  shall  we  go  and  find  him?"  inquired  Franz. 

"  Oh,  decidedly,  sir.  He  is  in  a  very  picturesque  place 
— do  you  know  the  catacombs  of  St.  Sebastian?" 

"I  was  never  in  them,  but  I  have  often  resolved  to  visit 
them." 

"  Well,  here  is  an  opportunity  made  to  your  hand,  and 
it  would  be  difficult  to  contrive  a  better.  Have  you  a 
carriage." 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRI8TO.  423 

"No." 

"  That  is  of  no  consequence;  I  always  have  one  ready, 
day  and  night." 

"  Always  ready?" 

"  Yes.  I  am  a  very  capricious  being,  and  I  should  tell 
you  that  sometines  when  I  rise,  or  after  my  dinner,  or  in 
the  middle  of  the  night,  I  resolve  on  starting  for  some 
particular  point,  and  away  I  go." 

The  count  rang  and  a  footman  appeared. 

"  Order  out  the  carriage,"  he  said,  "  and  remove  the 
pistols  which  are  in  the  holsters.  You  need  not  awaken 
the  coachman;  Ali  will  drive." 

In  a  very  short  time  the  noise  of  wheels  was  heard,  and 
the  carriage  stopped  at  the  door.  The  count  took  out 
his  watch. 

"  Half-past  twelve,"  he  said.  "  We  might  start  at  5 
o'clock  and  be  in  time,  but  the  delay  may  cause  your 
friend  an  uneasy  night,  and  therefore  we  had  better  go 
with  all  speed  to  extricate  him  from  the  hands  of  the  in- 
fidels. Are  you  still  resolved  to  accompany  me?" 

' '  More  determined  than  ever." 

"  Well,  then,  come  along." 

Franz  and  the  count  went  down-stairs,  accompanied  by 
Peppino.  At  the  door  they  found  the  carriage.  Ali  was 
on  the  box,  in  whom  Franz  recognized  the  dumb  slave 
of  the  grotto  of  Monte  Cristo.  Franz  and  the  count  got 
into  the  carriage.  Peppino  placed  himself  beside  Ali,  and 
they  set  off  at  a  "rapid  pace.  Ali  had  received  his  instruc- 
tions, and  went  down  the  Rue  du  Cours,  crossed  the  Campo 
Vaccino,  went  up  the  Strada  San  Gregorio  and  reached 
the  gates  of  St.  Sebastian.  Then  the  porter  raised  some 
difficulties,  but  the  Count  of  Monte  Cristo  produced  an 
authority  from  the  governor  of  Rome  to  quit  or  enter  the 
city  at  any  and  all  hours  of  the  day  or  night;  the  port- 
cullis was  therefore  raised,  the. porter  had  a  louis  for  his 
trouble,  and  they  went  on  their  way.  The  road  which  the 
carriage  now  traversed  was  the  Ancient  Appian  Way,  and 
and  bordered  with  tombs.  From  time  to  time,  by  the 
light  of  the  moon,  which  began  to  rise,  Franz  imagined 
that  he  saw  something  like  a  sentinel  appear  from  various 
points  of  the  ruin,  and  suddenly  retreat  into  the  darkness 
on  a  signal  from  Peppino.  A  short  time  before  they 
reached  the  circus  of  Caracal  la  the  carriage  stopped,  Pep- 


424  TEE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CBISTO. 

pino  opened  the  door,  and  the  Count  of  Monte  Cristo  and 
Franz  alighted. 

"In  ten  minutes,"  said  the  count  to  his  companion, 
"we  shall  arrive  there/' 

He  then  took  Peppino  aside,  gave  him  some  order  in  a 
low  voice,  and  Peppino  went  away,  taking  with  him  a 
torch,  brought  with  them  in  the  carriage.  Five  minutes 
elapsed,  during  which  Franz  saw  the  shepherd  advance 
along  a  narrow  path  in  the  midst  of  the  irregular  ground 
which  forms  the  convulsed  soil  of  the  plain  of  Eome,  and 
disappear  in  the  midst  of  the  high  red  herbage,  which 
seemed  like  the  bristling  mane  of  some  enormous  lion. 

"Now,"  said  the  count,  "let  us  follow  him." 

Franz  and  the  count  in  their  turn  then  advanced  along 
the  same  path,  which,  at  the  end  of  a  100  paces,  led  them 
by  a  declivity  to  the  bottom  of  a  small  valley.  They  then 
perceived  two  men  conversing  in  the  shade. 

"Ought  we  to  advance?"  asked  Franz  of  the  count;  "or 
should  we  pause?" 

"Let  us  go  on;  Peppino  will  have  warned  the  sentry  of 
our  coming." 

One  of  these  two  men  -was  Peppino,  and  the  other  a 
bandit  on  the  lookout.  Franz  and  the  count  advanced, 
and  the  bandit  saluted  them.  "Your  excellency,"  said 
Peppino,  addressing  the  count,  "if  you  will  follow  me, 
the  opening  of  the  catacombs  is  close  at  hand." 

"Go  on,  then,"  replied  the  count.  They  came  to  an 
opening  behind  a  clump  of  bushes,  and  irrthe  midst  of  a 
pile  of  rocks  by  which  a  man  could  scaraely  pass.  Pep- 
pino glided  first  into  this  crevice;  but  after  advancing  a 
few  paces  the  passage  widened.  Then  he  paused,  lighted 
his  torch,  and  turned  around  to  see  if  they  came  after 
him.  The  count  first  reached  a  kind  of  square  space,  and 
Franz  followed  him  closely.  The  earth  sloped  in  a  gentle 
descent,  enlarging  as  they  proceeded;  still  Franz  and  the 
count  were  compelled  to  advance  stooping,  and  scarcely 
able  to  proceed  two  abreast.  They  went  on  150  paces 
thus,  and  then  were  stopped  by  "Who  goes  there?"  At 
the  same  time  they  saw  the  reflection  of  a  torch  on  the 
barrel  of  a  carbine. 

"A  friend!"  responded  Peppino;  and,  advancing  alone 
toward  the  sentry,  he  said  a  few  words  to  him  in  a  low 
tone;  and  then  he,  like  the  first,  saluted  the  nocturnal  vis- 
itors, making  a  sign  that  they  might  proceed. 


THE  CO  UNT  OF  MONTE  CRI8TO.  425 

Behind  the  sentinel  was  a  stair-case  with  twenty  steps. 
Franz  and  the  count  descended  these,  and  found  them- 
selves in  a  kind  of  cross-roads,  forming  a  burial-ground. 
Five  roads  diverged  like  the  rays  of  a  star,  and  the  walls, 
dug  into  niches,  placed  one  above  the  other  in  the  shape 
of  coffins,  showed  that  they  were  at  last  in  the  catacombs. 
In  one  of  the  cavities,  whose  extent  it  was  impossible  to 
determine,  some  rays  of  light  were  visible.  The  count 
laid  his  hand  on  Franz's  shoulder.  "Would  you  like  to 
see  a  camp  of  bandits  in  repose?"  he  inquired. 

"Exceedingly,"  replied  Franz. 

"Come  with  me  then.     Peppino,  extinguish  the  torch." 

Peppino  obeyed,  and  Franz  and  the  count  were  suddenly 
in  utter  darkness,  only  fifty  paces  in  advance  of  them 
there  played  along  the  wall  some  reddish  beams  of  light, 
more  visible  since  Peppino  had  put  out  his  torch.  They 
advanced  silently,  the  count  guiding  Franz  as  if  he  had 
the  singular  faculty  of  seeing  in  the  dark.  Franz,  him- 
self, however,  distinguished  his  way  more  plainly  in  pro- 
portion as  he  advanced  toward  the  rays  of  light,  which 
served  them  for  guides;  three  arcades,  of  which  the  middle 
served  as  the  door,  offered  themselves.  These  arcades 
opened  on  one  side  to  the  corridor,  in  which  were  the 
count  and  Franz,  and  on  the  other  to  a  large  square  cham- 
ber, entirely  surrounded  by  niches  similar  to  those  of  which 
we  have  spoken.  In  the  midst  of  this  chamber  were  four 
stones,  which  had  formerly  served  as  an  altar,  as  was  evi- 
dent from  the  cross  which  still  surmounted  them,  A 
lamp,  placed  at  the  base  of  a  pillar,  lighted  up  with  its 
pale  and  flickering  flame  the  singular  scene  which  pre- 
sented itself  to  the  eyes  of  the  two  visitors  concealed  in 
the  shadow.  A  man  was  seated  with  his  elbow  leaning  on 
the  column,  and  was  reading  with  his  back  turned  to  the 
arcades,  through  the  openings  of  which  the  new-comers 
contemplated  him.  This  was  the  chief  of  the  band, 
Luigi  Vampa.  Around  him,  and  in  groups,  according  to 
their  fancy,  lying  in  their  mantles,  or  with  their  backs 
against  a  kind  of  stone  bench,  which  went  all  round  the 
Columbarium,  were  to  be  seen  twenty  brigands  or  more, 
each  having  his  carbine  within  reach.  At  the  bottom, 
silent,  scarcely  visible,  and  like  a  shadow,  was  a  sentinel, 
who  was  walking  up  and  down  before  a  kind  of  opening, 
which  was  only  distinguishable  because  in  that  spot  the 


426  THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  OBI8TO. 

darkness  seemed  thicker.  When  the  count  thought  Franz 
had  gazed  sufficiently  on  this  picturesque  tableau,  he 
raised  his  finger  to  his  lips,  to  warn  him  to  be  silent,  and, 
ascending  the  three  steps  which  led  to  the  corridor  of  the 
Columbarium,  entered  the  chamber  by  the  center  arcade, 
and  advanced  toward  Vampa,  who  was  so  intent  on  the 
book  before  him  that  he  did  not  hear  the  noise  of  his  foot- 
steps. 

"Who  goes  there?"  cried  the  sentinel,  less  occupied,  and 
who  saw  by  the  lamp's  light  a  shadow  which  approached 
his  chief.  At  this  sound,  Vampa  rose  quickly,  drawing  at 
the  same  moment  a  pistol  from  his  girdle.  In  a  moment 
all  the  bandits  were  on  their  feet,  and  twenty  carbines 
were  levelled  at  the  count. 

"Well,"  said  he,  in  a  voice  perfectly  calm,  and  no 
muscle  of  his  countenance  disturbed,  "well,  my  dear 
Vampa,  it  appears  to  me  that  you  receive  a  friend  with  a 
great  deal  of  ceremony." 

"Ground  arms!"  exclaimed  the  chief,  with  an  impera- 
tive sign  of  the  hand,  while  with  the  other  he  took  off 
his  hat  respectfully;  then,  turning  to  the  singular  person- 
age who  had  caused  this  scene,  he  said,  "Your  pardon,  M. 
le  Comte,  but  I  was  so  far  from  expecting  the  honor  of  a 
visit,  that  I  did  not  really  recognize  you." 

"It  seems  that  your  memory  is  equally  short  in  every- 
thing, Vampa,"  said  the  count,  "and  that  not  only  do 
you  forget  people's  faces,  but  also  the  conditions  you  make 
with  them." 

"What  conditions  have  I  forgotten,  M.  le  Comte?"  in- 
quired the  bandit,  with  the  air  of  a  man  who,  having  com- 
mitted an  error,  is  anxious  to  repair  it. 

"Was  it  not  agreed,"  asked  the  count,  "that  not  only 
my  person,  but  also  that  of  my  friends,  should  be  respected 
by  you?" 

"And  how  have  I  broken  that  treaty,  your  excel- 
lency?" 

"You  have  this  evening  carried  off  and  conveyed  hither 
the  Viscount  Albert  de  Morcerf.  Well,"  continued  the 
count,  in  a  tone  that  made  Franz  shudder,  "this  young 
gentleman  is  one  of  my  friends — this  young  gentleman 
lodges  in  the  same  hotel  as  myself — this  young  gentleman 
has  been  up  and  down  the  Corse  for  eight  hours  in  my 
private  carriage,  and  yet,  I  repeat  to  you,  you  have  carried 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO.  427 

him  off,  and  conveyed  him  hither,  and,"  added  the  count, 
taking  the  letter  from  his  pocket,  "you  have  set  a  ransom 
on  him,  as  if  he  were  an  indifferent  person." 

"Why  did  you  not  tell  me  all  this — you?"  inquired  the 
brigand  chief,  turning  toward  his  men,  who  all  retreated 
before  his  look.  "Why  have  you  exposed  me  thus  to  fail 
in  my  word  toward  a  gentlemen  like  the  count,  who  has 
all  our  lives  in  his  hands?  By  heavens!  if  I  thought  one 
of  you  knew  that  the  young  gentleman  was  the  friend  of 
his  excellency,  I  would  blow  his  brains  out  with  my  own 
hand." 

"  Well,"  said  the  count,  turning  toward  Franz,  "  I  told 
you  there  was  some  mistake  in  this." 

"  Are  you  not  alone?"  asked  Vampa,  with  uneasiness. 

"  I  am  with  the  person  to  whom  this  letter  was  ad- 
dressed, and  to  whom  I  desired  to  prove  that  Luigi  Vampa 
was  a  man  of  his  word.  Come,  your  excellency,  here  is 
Luigi  Vampa,  who  will  himself  express  to  you  his  deep  re- 
gret at  the  mistake  he  has  committed." 

Franz  approached,  the  chief  advancing  several  steps  to 
meet  hhJJl  ° 

"Welcome  among  us,  your  excellency,"  he  said  to  him; 
"  you  heard  what  the  count  just  said,  and  also  my  reply; 
let  me  add  that  I  would  not  for  the  4,000  piastres  at 
which  I  had  fixed  your  friends  ransom,  that  this  had  hap- 
pened." 

"  But,"  said  Franz,  looking  round  him  uneasily,  "  where 
is  the  viscount?  I  do  not  see  him?" 

"  Nothing  has  happened  to  him,  I  hope?"  said  the  count, 
frowningly. 

"  The  prisoner  is  there,"  replied  Vampa,  pointing  to  the 
hollow  space  in  front  of  which  the  bandit  was  on  guard, 
"  and  I  will  go  myself  and  tell  him  he  is  free."  The  chief 
went  toward  the  place  he  had  pointed  out  as  Albert's 
prison,  and  Franz  and  the  count  followed  him.  "  What 
is  the  prisoner  doing?"  inquired  Vampa,  of  the  sentinel. 

"  Mafoi?  captain,"  replied  the  sentry,  "  I  do  not  know, 
for  the  fast  hour  I  have  not  heard  him  stir." 

"Come  in,  your  excellency,"  said  Vampa. 

The  count  and  Franz  ascended  seven  or  eight  steps  after 
the  chief,  who  drew  back  a  bolt  and  opened  a  door.  Then, 
by  the  gleam  of  a  lamp,  similar  to  that  which  lighted  the 
Columbarium.  Albert  was  seen  to  be  wrapped  up  in  a  cloak, 


428  THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO. 

which  one  of  the  bandits  loaned  him,  lying  in  a  corner  in 
profound  slumber. 

"  Come!''  said  the  count,  smiling  with  his  own  peculiar 
smile,  "not  so  bad  for  a  man  who  is  to  be  shot  at  7  o'clock 
to-morrow  morning!" 

Vampa  looked  at  Albert  with  a  kind  of  admiration;  he 
was  not  insensible  to  such  a  proof  of  courage. 

"  You  are  right,  M.  le  Comte,"  he  said;  "  this  must  be 
one  of  your  friends."  Then,  going  to  Albert,  he  touched 
him  on  the  shoulder,  saying:  "  Will  your  excellency  please 
to  awaken?" 

Albert  stretched  out  his  arms,  rubbed  his  eyelids  and 
opened  his  eyes. 

"Ah!  ah!"  said  he,  "it  is  you,  captain?  You  should 
have  allowed  me  to  have  slept.  I  had  such  a  delightful 
dream;  I  was  dancing  the  gallop  at  Torlonia's  with  the 

Countess  G ."  Then  he  drew  from  his  pocket  his 

watch,  which  he  had  preserved,  that  he  might  see  how  time 

rd.     "  Half -past  one  only,"  said  he.     "  Why  the  devil 
you  rouse  me  at  this  hour?" 

"  To  tell  you  that  you  are  free,  your  excellency-" 

"  My  dear  fellow,"  replied  Albert,  with  perfect  ease  of 
mind,  "  remember,  for  the  future,  Napoleon's  maxim, 
*  Never  awaken  me  but  for  bad  news;'  if  you  had  let  me 
sleep  on,  I  should  have  finished  my  gallop,  and  have  been 
grateful  to  you  all  my  life.  So,  then,  they  have  paid  my 
ransom?" 

'  No,  your  excellency!" 

'Well,  then,  how  am  I  free?" 

'  A  person  to  whom  I  can  refuse  nothing  has  come  to 
demand  you." 

'  Come  hither?" 

'Yes,  hither." 

'Keally!  then  that  person  is  a  most  amiable  person. " 
Albert  looked  round  and  perceived  Franz.  "What!"  said 
he,  "  is  it  you,  my  dear  Franz,  whose  devotion  and  friend- 
ship are  thus  displayed?" 

"  No,  not  I,  replied  Franz,  "  but  our  neighbor,  the 
Count  of  Monte  Cristo." 

"Ah!  ah!  M.  le  Comte,"  said  Albert,  gayly,  and  ar- 
ranging his  cravat  and  wristbands,  "  you  are  really  most 
kind,  and  I  hope  you  will  consider  me  as  your  eternally 
obliged,  in  the  first  place  for  the  carriage,  and  in  the  next 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CR1STO,  439 

for  this!"  and  lie  put  out  his  hand  to  the  count,  who 
shuddered  as  he  gave  his  own,  but  who,  nevertheless,  did 
give  it. 

The  bandit  gazed  on  this  scene  with  amazement;  he  was 
evidently  accustomed  to  see  his  prisoners  tremble  before 
him,  and  yet  here  was  one  whose  gay  temperament  was  not 
for  a  moment  altered;  as  for  Franz,  he  was  enchanted  at 
the  way  in  which  Albert  had  sustained  the  national  honor 
in  the  presence  of  the  bandit. 

"  My  dear  Albert,"  he  said,  "  if  you  will  make  haste  we 
shall  yet  have  time  to  finish  the  night  at  Torlonia's.  You 
may  conclude  your  interrupted  gallop,  so  that  you  will  owe 
no  ill  will  to  Signor  Luigi,  who  has,  indeed,  throughout 
this  whole  affair  acted  like  a  gentleman." 

"  You  are  decidedly  right,  and  we  may  reach  the  palazzo 
by  2  o'clock.  Signor  Luigi,"  continued  Albert,  "  is  there 
any  formality  to  fulfill  before  I  take  leave  of  your  ex- 
cellency?" 

"None,  sir,"  replied  the  bandit,  "you  are  as  free 
as  air." 

"  Well,  then,  a  happy  and  merry  life  to  you.  Come, 
gentlemen,  come." 

And  Albert,  followed  by  Franz  and  the  count,  descended 
the  staircase,  crossed  the  square  chamber,  where  stood  all 
the  bandits,  hat  in  hand. 

"Peppino,"  said  the  brigand  chief,  "give  me  the 
torch." 

"  What  are  you  going  to  do  then?"  inquired  the  count. 

"  I  will  show  you  the  way  back  myself,"  said  the  cap- 
cain;  "  that  is  the  least  honor  I  can  testify  to  your  ex- 
cellencies." And  taking  the  lighted  torch  from  the  hand 
of  the  herdsman  he  preceded  his  guests,  not  as  a  servant 
who  performs  an  act  of  civility,  but  like  a  king  who  pre- 
cedes ambassadors.  On  reaching  the  door  he  bowed. 
"  And  now,  M.  le  Comte,"  added  he,  "  allow  me  to  repeat 
my  apologies,  and  I  hope  you  will  not  entertain  any  resent- 
ment at  what  has  occurred." 

"  No,  my  dear  Vampa,"  replied  the  count;  "  besides  you 
compensate  for  your  mistakes  in  so  gentlemanly  a  way  that 
one  almost  feels  obliged  to  you  for  having  committed 
them." 

"Gentlemen,"  added  the  chief,  turning  toward  the 
young  men,  "perhaps  the  offer  may  not  appear  very 
DUMAS — VOL.  I. — 19 


430  THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRI8TO. 

tempting  to  you;  but  if  you  should  ever  feel  inclined  to  pay 
me  a  second  visit,  wherever  I  may  be,  you  shall  be  wel- 
come. "  Franz  and  Albert  bowed.  The  count  went  out 
first,  then  Albert.  Franz  paused  for  a  moment.  "  Has 
your  excellency  anything  to  ask  me?"  said  Vampa,  with  a 
smile. 

"  Yes,  I  have,"  replied  Franz;  "I  am  curious  to  know 
what  work  you  were  perusing  with  so  much  attention  as  we 
entered?" 

"  Csesar's  '  Commentaries/  "  said  the  bandit;  "  it  is  my 
favorite  work." 

"  Well,  are  you  coming?"  asked  Albert. 

"  Yes,"  replied  Franz,  "  here  I  am!"  and  he,  in  his 
turn,  left  the  caves. 

They  advanced  to  the  plain. 

"Ah!  your  pardon!"  said  Albert,  turning  round;  "  will 
you  allow  me,  captain?"  And  he  lighted  his  cigar  at 
Vampa's  torch.  "Now,  M.  le  Comte,"  he  said,  "let  us 
on  with  all  the  speed  we  may.  I  am  enormously  anxious 
to  finish  my  night  at  the  Duke  of  Bracciano's."  They 
found  the  carriage  where  they  had  left  it.  The  count  said 
a  word  in  Arabic  to  Ali  and  the  horses  went  off  at  a  great 
speed.  It  was  just  2  o'clock  by  Albert's  watch  when  the 
two  friends  entered  into  the  dancing-room.  Their  return 
was  quite  an  event,  but  as  they  entered  together  all  un- 
easiness on  Albert's  account  ceased  instantly.  "  Madame," 
said  the  Viscount  Morcerf,  advancing  toward  the  countess, 
"  yesterday  you  were  so  condescending  as  to  promise  me  a 
gallop;  I  am  rather  late  in  claiming  this  gracious  promise, 
but  here  is  my  friend,  whose  character  for  veracity  you  well 
know,  and  he  will  assure  you  the  delay  arose  from  no  fault  of 
mine." 

And  as  at  this  moment  the  music  gave  the  warning  for 
the  waltz,  Albert  put  his  arm  around  the  waist  of  the 
countess,  and  disappeared  with  her  in  the  whirl  of  dancers. 
In  the  meanwhile  Franz  was  considering  the  singular 
shudder  that  had  pervaded  the  Count  of  Monte  Cristo's 
frame  at  the  moment  when  he  had  been,  in  some  sort, 
forced  to  give  his  hand  to  Albert. 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO.  431 

CHAPTER    XXXVIII. 

THE  RENDEZVOUS. 

ALBERT'S  first  words  to  his  friend,  on  the  following 
morning,  contained  a  request  that  he  would  accompany 
him  to  visit  the  count.  True,  he  had  warmly  and  ener- 
getically thanked  him  the  previous  evening,  but  services 
such  as  he  had  rendered  could  never  be  too  often  acknowl- 
edged. Franz,  who  seemed  attracted  by  some  invisible 
influence  toward  the  count,  in  which  terror  was  strangely 
mingled,  felt  an  extreme  reluctance  to  permit  his  friend 
to  be  exposed  alone  to  the  singular  fascination  the  mys- 
terious count  seemed  to  exercise  over  him,  and  therefore 
made  no  objection  to  Albert's  request,  but  at  once  accom- 
panied him  to  the  desired  spot,  and,  after  a  short  delay, 
the  count  joined  them  in  the  salon. 

"M.  le  Comte,"  said  Albert,  advancing  to  meet  him, 
"  permit  me  to  repeat  the  poor  thanks  I  offered  last  night, 
and  to  assure  you  that  the  remembrance  of  all  I  owe  to 
you  will  never  be  effaced  from  my  memory;  believe  me, 
while  I  have  life  I  shall  never  cease  to  dwell  with  grateful 
recollection  on  the  prompt  and  important  service  you  ren- 
dered me;  as  also  to  remember  that  to  you  I  am  indebted 
even  for  my  life." 

"  My  very  good  friend  and  excellent  neighbor,"  replied 
the  count,  with  a  smile,  "  you  really  exaggerate  my  trifling 
exertions.  You  owe  me  nothing  but  some  trifle  of  20,000 
francs,  which  you  have  been  saved  out  of  your  traveling 
expenses,  so  that  there  is  not  much  of  a  score  between  us; 
bat  you  must  really  permit  me  to  congratulate  you  on  the 
ease  "and  unconcern  with  which  you  resigned  yourself  to 
your  fate  and  the  perfect  indifference  you  manifested  as 
to  the  turn  events  might  take." 

"Upon  my  word,"  said  Albert,  "  I  deserve  no  credit  for 
what  I  could  not  help,  namely,  a  determination  to  take 
everything  as  I  found  it,  and  to  let  those  bandits  see  that, 
although  men  get  into  troublesome  scrapes  all  over  the 
world,  there  is  no  nation  but  the  French  that  can  smile  even 
in  the  face  of  grim  death  himself.  All  that,  however,  has 
nothing  to  do  with  my  obligations  to  yon,  and  I  now  come 
to  ask  you  whether,  in  my  own  person,  my  family  or  con- 


432  THE  CO  UNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO. 

nections,  I  can  in  any  way  serve  you?  My  father,  the 
Comte  de  Morcerf,  although  of  Spanish  origin,  possesses 
considerable  influence,  both  at  the  court  of  France  and 
Madrid,  and  I  unhesitatingly  place  the  best  services  of 
myself  and  all  to  whom  my  life  is  dear,  at  your  disposal." 

*"  M.  de  Morcerf,"  replied  the  count,  "your  offer,  far 
from  surprising  me,  is  precisely  what  I  expected  from  you, 
and  I  accept  it  in  the  same  spirit  of  hearty  sincerity  with 
which  it  is  made;  nay,  I  will  go  still  further  and  say  that 
I  had  previously  made  up  my  mind  to  ask  a  great  favor  at 
your  hands." 

"Oh,  pray  name  it." 

"I  am  wholly  a  stranger  to  Paris — it  is  a  city  I  have 
never  yet  seen." 

"  Is  it  possible,"  exclaimed  Albert,  "  that  you  have 
reached  your  present  age  without  visiting  the  finest  capital 
in  the  world?  I  can  scarcely  credit  it." 

"  Nevertheless,  it  is  quite  true;  still,  I  agree  with  you  in 
thinking  that  my  present  ignorance  of  the  first  city  in 
Europe  is  a  reproach  to  me  in  every  way,  and  calls  for 
immediate  correction;  but,  in  all  probability,  I  should 
have  performed  so  important,  so  necessary,  a  duty  as  that 
of  making  myself  acquainted  with  the  wonders  and 
beauties  of  your  justly  celebrated  capital  had  I  known 
any  person  who  would  have  introduced  me  into  the  fash- 
ionable world,  but  unfortunately  I  possessed  no  acquaint- 
ance there,  and  of  necessity  was  compelled  to  abandon  the 
idea." 

"  So  distinguished  an  individual  as  yourself,"  cried 
Albert,  "could  scarcely  have  required  an  introduction." 

"You  are  most  kind;  but  as  regards  myself,  I  can  find 
no  merit  I  possess  save  that  as  a  millionaire.  I  might  have 
become  a  partner  in  the  speculations  of  M.  Aguado  and 
M.  Eothschild,  but  as  my  motive  in  traveling  to  your  capi- 
tal weald  not  have  been  for  the  pleasure  of  dabbling  in  the 
funds,  I  stayed  away  till  some  favorable  chance  should 
present  itself  of  carrying  my  wish  into  execution;  your 
offer,  however,  smooths  all  difficulties,  and  I  have  only  to 
ask  you,  my  dear  M.  de  Morcerf"  (these  words  were  accom- 
panied with  a  peculiar  smile),  "  whether  you  undertake, 
upon  my  arrival  in  France,  to  open  to  me  the  doors  of  that 
fashionable  world  of  which  I  know  no  more  than  a  Huron 
or  native  of  Cochin-China?" 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CR18TO.  433 

"Oh,  that  I  do,  and  with  infinite  pleasure!"  answered 
Albert;  "  and  so  much  the  more  readily  as  a  letter  received 
this  morning  from  my  father  summons  me  to  Paris  in  con- 
sequence of  a  treaty  of  marriage — my  dear  Franz,  do  not 
smile — with  a  family  of  high  standing  and  connected  with 
the  very  elite  of  Parisian  society. " 

Connected  by  marriage,  you  mean,"  said  Franz,  laugh- 


Well,  never  mind  how  it  is,"  answered  Albert,  "it 
comes  to  the  same  thing  in  the  end.  Perhaps  by  the  time 
you  return  to  Paris  I  shall  be  quite  a  sober,  staid  father  of 
a  family!  A  most  edifying  representative  I  shall  make  of 
all  the  domestic  virtues— don't  you  think  so?  But  as 
regards  your  wish  to  visit  our  fine  city,  my  dear  count,  I 
can  only  say  that  you  may  command  me  and  mine  to  any 
extent  you  please." 

"Then  it  is  a  settled  affair,"  said  the  count;  "and  I 
give  you  my  solemn  assurance  that  I  only  waited  an  oppor- 
tunity like  the  present  to  realize  schemes  I  have  long 
meditated." 

Franz  doubted  not  that  these  schemes  were  the  same 
concerning  which  he  had  dropped  some  words  in  the  grotto 
of  Monte  Cristo;  and,  while  the  count  gave  utterance  to 
the  expression,  the  young  man  closely  examined  his 
features  in  the  hope  that  some  powerful  emotion  might 
render  the  nature  of  these  projects  easily  traced  upon  his 
expressive  countenance;  but  it  was  altogether  impossible  to 
read  the  thoughts  of  the  mysterious  individual  before  him, 
especially  when  he  employed  one  of  those  bewildering 
smiles  he  so  well  knew  how  to  call  up. 

"  But  tell  me  now,  count,"  exclaimed  Albert,  delighted 
at  the  idea  of  having  to  chaperone  so  distinguished  a 
person  as  Monte  Cristo;  "  tell  me,  truly,  whether  you  are 
in  earnest,  or  if  this  project  of  visiting  Paris  is  merely  one 
of  those  chimerical  and  uncertain  things  of  which  we 
make  so  many  in  the  course  of  our  lives,  but  which,  like 
a  house  built  on  the  sand,  is  liable  to  be  blown  over  by  the 
first  puff  of  wind?" 

"  I  pledge  you  my  honor,"  returned  the  count,  "  that  I 
mean  to  do  as  I  have  said.  Both  inclination  and  positive 
necessity  compel  me  to  visit  Paris." 

"  When  do  you  propose  going  thither?" 

"  Have  you  made  up  your  mmd  when  you  shall  be  there 
yourself?" 


434  TEW  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRI8TO. 

"Certainly  I  have;  in  a  fortnight  or  three  weeks'  time; 
that  is  to  say,  as  fast  as  I  can  get  there." 

' '  Nay,"  said  the  count,  "  I  will  give  you  three  months 
ere  I  join  you.  You  see,  I  make  an  ample  allowance  for 
all  delays  and  difficulties." 

"And  in  three  months'  time,  said  Albert,  "  you  will  be 
at  my  house?" 

"  Shall  we  make  a  positive  appointment  for  a  particular 
day  and  hour?"  inquired  the  count.  "Only  let  me  warn 
you  that  I  am  proverbial  for  my  punctilious  exactitude  in 
keeping  my  engagements." 

"The  very  thing!"  exclaimed  Albert;  "yes,  by  all 
means,  let  us  have  this  rendezvous  duly  drawn  up  and 
attested." 

"  So  be  it,  then,"  replied  the  count,  and  extending  his 
hand  toward  an  almanac,  suspended  near  the  chimney- 
piece,  he  said,  "  To-day  is  the  21st  of  February;"  and, 
drawing  out  his  watch,  added,  "  it  is  exactly  10:30  o'clock. 
Now,  promise  me  to  remember  this  and  expect  me  the  21st 
of  May  at  the  same  hour  in  the  forenoon." 

"Capital!"  exclaimed  Albert;  "and  you  shall  find 
everything  and  everybody  ready  to  receive  you.  I  take 
upon  myself  to  promise  that  your  breakfast  shall  be  smok- 
ing hot  awaiting  your  arrival." 

"Where  do  you  live?" 

"No.  27,  Rue  du  Helder." 

"Have  you  bachelor's  apartments  there?  I  hope  my 
coming  will  not  put  you  to  any  inconvenience." 

"  I  reside  in  my  father's  hotel,  but  occupy  a  pavilion  at 
the  farther  side  of  the  court-yard,  entirely  separated  from 
the  main  building." 

"  Quite  sufficient,"  replied  the  count,  as,  taking  out  his 
tablets,  he  wrote  down  "  No.  27,  Rue  du  Helder,  21st  of 
May,  10:30  in  the  morning."  "  Now,  then,"  said  the 
count,  returning  his  tablets  to  his  pocket,  "  make  yourself 
perfectly  easy;  the  hand  of  your  timepiece  will  not  be 
more  accurate  in  marking  the  time  than  myself." 

"  Shall  I  see  you  again  ere  my  departure  ?"  asked 
Albert. 

"  That  will  be  according  to  circumstances;  but  when  do 
you  set  off  ?" 

"To-morrow  evening,  at  5  o'clock." 

"In  that  case  I  must  gay  adieu  to  you;  as  I  am  com- 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRI8TO.  435 

pelled  to  go  to  Naples,  and  shall  not  return  hither  before 
Saturday  evening  or   Sunday  morning.     And  you  M.   le 
Baron,"  pursued  the  count,  addressing  Franz,  '  do  you  also 
depart  to-morrow?" 
'Yes,  I  go  also." 

'And  whither  do  you  wend  your  way?  to  Paris?" 
'  No,  to  Venice;  I  shall  remain  in  Italy  for  another  year 


or 


two." 


Then  we  shall  not  meet  in  Paris?" 
I  fear  I  shall  not  have  the  honor." 
'  Well,  since  we  must  part,"  said  the  count,  holding  out 
a  hand  to  each  of  the  young  men,  "  allow  me  to  wish  you 
both  a  safe  and  pleasant  journey."  It  was  the  first  time 
the  hand  of  Franz  had  come  in  contact  with  that  of  the 
mysterious  individual  before  him  and  unconsciously  he 
shuddered  at  its  touch,  for  it  felt  cold  and  icy  as  that  of  a 
corpse.  "  Let  us  understand  each  other,"  said  Albert;  "  it 
is  agreed — is  it  not?  that  you  are  to  be  in  the  Rue  du 
Helder  on  the  21st  of  May,  at  10:30  in  the  morning  and 
your  word  of  honor  passed  for  your  punctuality?" 

"  All  that  is  settled  and  arranged  upon  honor,"  replied 
the  count;  f '  rely  upon  seeing  me  at  the  time  and  place 
agreed  on."  The  young  men  then  rose,  and,  courteously 
bowing  to  their  singular  acquaintance,  quitted  the  room. 

"  What  is  the  matter?"  asked  Albert  of  Franz,  when  they 
had  returned  to  their  own  apartments;  "  you  seem  more 
than  commonly  thoughtful." 

"I  will  confess  to  you,  Albert,"  replied  Franz,  "that  I 
am  deeply  puzzled  to  unravel  the  real  career  of  this  strange 
count;  and  the  appointment  you  have  made  to  meet  him  in 
Paris  fills  me  with  a  thousand  apprehensions." 

"  My  dear  fellow,"  exclaimed  Albert,  "  what  can  there 
possibly  be  in  that  to  excite  uneasiness?  Why,  you  must 
nave  logt  your  senses  to  imagine  either  harm  or  danger  can 
spring  from  it." 

"  Whether  I  am  in  my  senses  or  not,"  answered  Franz, 
"  such  is  my  view  of  the  evil  effects  that  may  arise  from  a 
second  meeting  with  this  incomprehensible  count  that  I 
would  give  much  you  had  not  crossed  his  path." 

"Listen  to  me,  Franz,"  said  Albert;  "lam  not  sorry 
that  our  present  conversation  gives  me  an  opportunity  of 
remarking  to  you  how  much  I  have  been  struck  with  the 
difference  of  your  manner  toward  the  count  to  that  with 


436  THE  CO  UNT  OF  MONTE  CR18TO. 

which  you  treat  your  friends  in  general;  to  him  you  are 
frigid  and  polite,  while  to  myself,  for  instance,  you  are 
warm  and  cordial,  as  a  friend  should  be.  Have  you  any 
private  reasons  for  so  acting?" 

"  Possibly." 

"  Did  you  ever  meet  him  previously  to  coming  hither?" 

"I  have." 

"And  where?" 

"Will  you  promise  me  not  to  repeat  a  single  word  of 
what  I  am  about  to  tell  you?" 

"I  promise  you  to  observe  the  utmost  secrecy." 

"And  you  pledge  me  your  honor  that  nothing  shall 
induce  you  to  divulge  it?" 

"  I  pledge  my  honor." 

"  Then,  listen  to  me."  Franz  then  related  to  his  friend 
the  history  of  his  excursion  to  the  Isle  of  Monte  Cristo 
and  of  his  finding  a  party  of  smugglers  there,  with  whom 
were  two  Corsican  bandits.  He  dwelt  with  considerable 
force  and  energy  on  the  almost  magical  hospitality  he  had 
received  from  the  count  and  the  magnificence  of  his  enter- 
tainment in  the  grotto  of  the  Thousand  and  One  Nights. 
He  recounted,  with  circumstantial  exactitude,  all  particu- 
lars of  the  supper;  the  hatchis,  the  statues,  the  dream  and 
reality,  and  how,  at  his  awakening,  there  remained  no 
proof  or  trace  of  all  these  events,  save  the  small  yacht, 
seen  in  the  distant  horizon  hastening  with  spread  sails 
toward  Porto  Vecchio.  Then  he  detailed  the  conversation 
overheard  by  him  at  the  Colosseum,  between  the  mysterious 
visitant  Vain  pa,  in  which  the  count  had  promised  to  obtain 
the  release  of  the  bandit  Peppino — an  engagement  which, 
as  our  readers  are  aware,  he  most  faithfully  fulfilled.  At 
last  he  arrived  at  the  adventure  of  the  preceding  night  and 
the  embarrassment  in  which  he  found  himself  placed  by 
not  having  sufficient  cash  to  complete  the  sum  of,  600  or 
700  piastres,  with  the  circumstance  of  his  having  applied 
to  the  count  to  furnish  the  money  in  which  he  was  defi- 
cient— an  impulse  which  had  led  to  results  so  picturesque 
and  satisfactory.  Albert  listened  with  the  most  profound 
attention. 

"  Well,"  said  he,  when  Franz  had  concluded,  "  what  do 
you  find  to  object  to  in  all  you  have  related?  The  count  is 
fond  of  traveling,  and,  being  rich,  possesses  a  vessel  of  his 
own.  Go  but  to  Portsmouth  or  Southampton  and  you  will 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRI8TO.  437 

find  the  harbors  crowded  with  the  yachts  belonging  to  such 
of  the  English  as  can  afford  the -expense,  and  have  the 
same  liking  for  this  amusement  as  your  mysterious  ac- 
quaintance of  the  Isle  of  Monte  Cristo.  Now,  by  way  of 
having  a  resting-place  during  his  excursions,  avoiding  the 
wretched  cookery  which  has  been  trying  its  best  to  poison 
me  during  the  last  four  months,  while  you  have  manfully 
resisted  its  effects  for  as  many  years,  and  obtaining  a  bed 
on  which  it  is  impossible  to  slumber,  Monte  Cristo  has  fur- 
nished for  himself  a  temporary  abode  where  you  first  found 
him;  but,  to  prevent  the  possibility  of  the  Tuscan  govern- 
ment taking  a  fancy  to  his  enchanted  palace,  and  thereby 
depriving  him  of  the  advantages  naturally  expected  from 
so  large  an  outlay  of  capital,  he  has  wisely  enough  pur- 
chased the  island  and  assumed  the  title  of  its  count.  Just 
ask  yourself,  my  good  fellow,  whether  there  are  not  many 
persons  of  our  acquaintance  who  assume  the  names  of 
lands  and  properties  they  never  in  their  lives  were 
master  of  r 

"But,"  said  Franz,  "how  do  you  account  for  the  cir- 
cumstance of  the  Corsican  bandits  being  among  the  crew 
of  his  vessel?" 

"  Why,  really  the  thing  seems  to  me  simple  enough. 
Nobody  knows  better  than  yourself  that  the  bandits  of 
Corsica  are  not  rogues  or  thieves,  but  purely  and  simply 
fugitives,  driven  by  some  sinister  motive  from  their  native 
town  or  village,  and  that  their  fellowship  involves  no  dis- 
grace or  stigma;  for  my  own  part,  I  protest  that,  should  I 
ever  visit  Corsica,  my  first  visit,  ere  even  I  presented  my- 
self to  the  mayor  or  pr&fet,  should  be  to  the  bandits  of 
Colomba,  if  I  could  only  manage  to  find  them;  for,  on  my 
conscience,  they  are  a  race  of  men  I  admire  greatly." 

"  Still,"  persisted  Franz,  "  I  suppose  you  will  allow  that 
such  men  as  Vampa  and  his  band  are  regular  villians,  who 
have  no  other  motive  than  plunder  when  they  seize  your 
person.  How  do  you  explain  the  influence  the  count 
evidently  possessed  over  those  ruffians  ?" 

"  My  good  friend,  as  in  all  probability  I  owe  my  present 
safety  to  that  influence,  it  would  ill  become  me  to  search 
too  closely  into  its  source;  therefore,  instead  of  condemn- 
ing him  for  his  intimacy  with  outlaws,  you  must  give  me 
leave  to  excuse  any  little  irregularity  there  may  be  in  such 
a  connection;  not  altogether  for  preserving  my  life,  for 


488  THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRI8TO. 

my  own  idea  was  that  it  never  was  in  much  danger;  bul 
certainly  for  saving  me  4,000  piastres,  which,  being  trans- 
lated, means  neither  more  nor  less  than  24,000  livres  of 
our  money — a  sum  at  which,  most  assuredly,  I  should 
never  have  been  estimated  in  France;  proving  most  indis- 
putably/' added  Albert,  with  a  laugh,  "  that  no  prophet 
is  honored  in  his  own  country." 

"  Talking  of  countries,"  replied  Franz,  "can  you  tell  me 
what  country  produced  this  mysterious  person,  what  is  his 
native  tongue,  his  means  of  existence,  and  from  whence 
does  he  derive  his  immense  fortune,  and  what  were  those 
events  of  his  early  life — a  life  as  marvelous  as  unknown — 
that  have  tinctured  his  succeeding  years  with  so  dark  and 
gloomy  a  misanthropy?  Certainly,  these  are  questions,  that, 
in  your  place,  I  should  like  to  have  answered." 

"My  dear  Franz,"  replied  Albert,  "when,  upon  receipt 
of  my  letter,  you  found  the  necessity  of  asking  the  count's 
assistance,  you  promptly  went  to  him,  saying:  'My  friend 
Albert  de  Morcerf  is  in  danger;  help  me  to  deliver  him.' 
Was  not  that  nearly  what  you  said  ?" 

"  It  was." 

"Well,  then,  did  he  ask  you:  'Who  is  M.  Albert  de 
Morcerf  ?  how  does  he  come  by  his  name — his  fortune  ? 
what  are  his  means  of  existence  ?  what  is  his  birth-place  ? 
of  what  country  is  he  a  native  ?'  Tell  me,  did  he  put  all 
these  questions  to  you  ?" 

"  I  confess  he  asked  me  none." 

"  No;  he  merely  came  and  freed  me  from  the  hands  of 
Signer  Vampa,  where,  I  can  assure  you,  spite  of  all  my 
outward  appearance  of  ease  and  unconcern,  I  did  not  very 
particularly  care  to  remain.  Now,  then,  Franz,  when,  in 
return  of  services  so  promptly  and  unhesitatingly  rendered, 
he  but  asks  me  in  return  to  do  for  him  what  is  done  daily 
for  any  Russian  prince  or  Italian  noble  who  may  pass 
through  Paris — merely  to  introduce  him  into  society — 
would  you  have  me  refuse  ?  My  good  fellow,  you  must 
have  lost  your  senses  to  think  it  possible  I  could  act  with 
such  cold-blooded  policy." 

And  this  time  it  must  be  confessed  that,  in  direct  op- 
position to  the  ordinary  discussions  between  the  young 
men,  all  the  good  and  powerful  arguments  were  on  Albert's 
side. 

"  Well,"  said  Franz,  with  a  sigh,  "  do  as  you  please,  my 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO.  439 

dear  viscount,  for  your  anguinents  are  beyond  my  powers 
of  refutation.  Still,  in  spite  of  all,  you  must  admit  that 
this  Count  of  Monte  Cristo  is  a  most  singular  personage." 

"  He  is  a  philanthropist,"  answered  the  other;  "  and  no 
doubt  his  motive  in  visiting  Paris  is  to  compete  for  the 
Monthyou  prize,  given,  as  you  are  aware,  to  whoever  shall 
be  proved  to  have  most  materially  advanced  the  interests 
of  virtue  and  humanity.  If  my  vote  and  interest  can 
obtain  it  for  him,  I  will  readily  give  him  the  one  and  pro- 
mise the  other.  And  now,  my  dear  Franz,  let  us  talk  of 
something  else.  Come,  shall  we  take  our  luncheon,  and 
then  pay  a  last  visit  to  St.  Peter's?" 

Franz  silently  assented;  and  the  following  afternoon,  at 
5:30  o'clock,  the  young  men  parted,  Albert  de  Morcerf  to 
return  to  Paris,  and  Franz  d'Epinay  to  pass  a  fortnight  at 
Venice.  But,  ere  he  entered  his  traveling  carriage,  Albert, 
in  the  fear  of  his  expected  guest  forgetting  the  engage 
ment  he  had  entered  into,  placed  in  the  care  of  the  waiter 
of  the  hotel  a  card  to  be  delivered  to  the  Count  of  Monte 
Cristo,  on  which,  beneath  the  name  of  Albert  de  Morcerf, 
he  had  written  in  pencil — "  27  Rue  du  Helder,  on  the 
21st  May,  10:30  A.  M." 


CHAPTER  XXXIX. 

THE  GUESTS. 

IN*  THE  house  in  the  Rue  du  Helder,  where  Albert  had 
invited  the  Count  of  Monte  Cristo,  everything  was  being 
prepared  on  the  morning  of  the  21st  of  May  to  fulfill  the 
engagement.  Albert  de  Morcerf  inhabited  a  pavilion 
situated  at  the  corner  of  a  large  court,  and  directly  opposite 
another  building,  in  which  were  the  servants'  apartments. 
Two  windows  only  of  the  pavilion  faced  the  street;  three 
other  windows  looked  into  the  court,  and  two  at  the  back 
into  the  garden.  Between  the  court  and  the  garden,  built 
in  the  heavy  style  of  the  imperial  architecture,  was  the 
large  and  fashionable  dwelling  of  the  Count  and  Countess 
de  Morcerf.  A  high  wall  surrounded  the  whole  of  the 
hotel,  surmounted  at  intervals  by  vases  filled  with  flowers, 
and  broken  in  the  center  by  a  large  gate  of  gilt  iron,  which 
served  as  the  carriage  entrance.  A  small  door,  close  to  the 


440  THE  GO  UNT  OF  MONTE  CRI8TO. 

lodge  of  the  concierge,  gave  ingress  and  egress  to  the  ser- 
vants and  masters  when  they  were  on  foot. 

It  was  easy  to  discover  that  the  delicate  care  of  a  mother, 
unwilling  to  part  from  her  son,  and  yet  aware  he  re- 
quired the  full  exercise  of  his  liberty,  had  chosen  this 
habitation  for  Albert.  On  the  other  hand  was  visible  the 
intelligent  independence  of  youth,  enchanted  with  the 
free  and  idle  life  of  a  young  man.  By  means  of  these  two 
windows,  looking  into  the  street,  Albert  could  see  all  that 
passed;  the  sight  of  what  is  going  on  is  so  necessary  to 
young  men,  who  wish  always  to  see  the  world  traverse 
their  horizon,  be  that  horizon  but  the  street  only.  Then, 
should  anything  appear  to  merit  a  more  minute  examina- 
tion, Albert  de  Morcerf  could  follow  up  his  researches  by 
means  of  a  small  gate,  similar  to  that  close  to  the  con- 
cierge's door,  and  which  merits  a  particular  description.  It 
was  a  little  entrance  that  seemed  never  to  have  been  opened 
since  the  house  was  built,  so  entirely  was  it  covered  with 
dust  and  dirt;  but  the  well-oiled  hinges  and  locks  an- 
nounced a  frequent  and  mysterious  employment.  This 
door  laughed  at  the  concierge,  from  whose  vigilance  and 
jurisdiction  it  escaped,  opening,  like  the  door  in  the 
"  Arabian  Nights,"  the  "  open  Sesame  "  of  Ali  Baba,  by  a 
cabalistic  word  or  a  concerted  tap  without  from  the  sweet- 
est voices  or  whitest  fingers  in  the  world.  At  the  end  of  a 
long  corridor,  with  which  the  door  communicated  and 
which  formed  the  ante-chamber,  was,  on  the  right,  Albert's 
breakfast-room;  looking  into  the  court,  and  on  the  left  the 
salon,  looking  into  the  garden.  Shrubs  and  creeping 
plants  covered  the  windows,  and  hid  from  the  garden 
and  the  court  these  two  apartments,  the  only  rooms  into 
which,  as  they  were  on  the  ground-floor,  the  prying  eyes 
of  the  curious  could  penetrate.  On  the  first  floor  were  the 
same  rooms,  with  the  addition  of  a  third,  formed  out  of 
the  ante-chamber;  these  three  rooms  were  a  salon,  a  bou- 
doir, and  a  bedroom.  The  salon  down-stairs  was  only  an 
Algerian  divan,  for  the  use  of  smokers.  The  boudoir  up- 
stairs communicated  with  the  bed-chamber  by  an  invisible 
door  on  the  staircase;  it  was  evident  every  precaution  had 
been  taken.  Above  this  floor  was  a  large  atelier,  which 
had  been  increased  in  size  by  pulling  down  the  partitions; 
a  pandemonium,  in  which  the  artist  and  the  dandy  strove 
for  pre-eminence.  There  were  collected  and  piled  up  all 


THK  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO.  441 

Albert's  successive  caprices,  hunting-horns,  bass-viols, 
flutes — a  whole  orchestra,  for  Albert  had  had  not  a  taste 
but  a  fancy  for  music;  easels,  palettes,  brushes,  pencils — 
for  music  had  been  succeeded  by  painting;  foils,  boxing- 
gloves,  broadswords,  and  single-sticks — for,  following  the 
example  of  the  fashionable  young  men  of  the  time,  Albert 
de  Morcerf  cultivated,  with  far  more  perseverance  than 
music  and  drawing,  the  three  arts  that  complete  a  dandy's 
education,  i.  e.,  fencing,  boxing,  and  single-stick  ;  and  it 
was  in  this  apartment  that  he  received  Grisier,  Cook,  and 
Charles  Lecour.  The  rest  of  the  furniture  of  this  privi- 
leged apartment  consisted  of  old  cabinets  of  the  time  of 
Francis  I,  filled  with  China  and  Japan  vases,  earthenware 
from  Lucca  or  Robbia,  plates  of  Bernard  de  Palissy;  of  old 
arm-chairs,  in  which  had  perhaps  reposed  themselves 
Henry  IV  or  Sully,  Louis  XIII  or  Richelieu — for  two  of 
these  arm-chairs,  adorned  with  a  carved  shield,  on  which 
were  engraved  the  fleur-de-lis  of  France  on  an  azure  field, 
evidently  came  from  the  Louvre,  or,  at  least,  some  royal 
residence.  On  these  dark  and  somber  chairs  were  thrown 
splendid  stuffs,  dyed  beneath  Persia's  sun,  or  woven  by  the 
fingers  of  the  women  of  Calcutta  or  of  Qhandernagor. 
What  these  stuffs  did  there,  it  was  impossible  to  say;  they 
awaited,  while  gratifying  the  eyes,  a  destination  unknown 
to  their  owner  himself;  in  the  meantime  they  filled  the 
room  with  their  golden  and  silky  reflections.  In  the  center 
of  the  room  was  a  piano  in  rosewood,  of  Roller  and 
Blanchet,  of  small  dimensions,  but  containing  an  orches- 
tra in  its  narrow  and  sonorous  cavity,  and  groaning  be- 
neath the  weight  of  the  chefs-d'rauvre  of  Beethoven, 
Weber,  Mozart,  Haydn,  Gretry,  and  Porpora,  On  the 
walls,  over  the  doors,  on  the  ceiling,  were  swords,  daggers, 
Malay  creeses,  maces,  battle-axes,  suits  of  armor,  gilded, 
damasked  and  inlaid,  dried  plants,  minerals,  and  stuffed 
birds,  opening  their  flame-colored  wings  as  if  for  flight, 
and  their  beaks  that  never  close.  This  was  the  favorite 
sitting-room  of  Albert. 

However,  the  morning  of  the  appointment,  the  young 
man  had  established  himself  in  the  small  salon  down-stairs. 
There,  on  a  table,  surrounded  at  some  distance  by  a  large 
and  luxurious  divan,  every  species  of  tobacco  known,  from 
the  yellow  tobacco  of  Petersburg  to  the  black  tobacco  of 
Sinai,  the  Maryland,  the  Porto-Rico,  and  the  Latakieh, 


442  TTTE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO. 

was  exposed  in  those  pots  of  crackled  earthenware  of 
which  the  Dutch  are  so  fond;  beside  them,  in  boxes  of 
fragrant  wood,  were  ranged,  according  to  their  size  and 
quality,  pueros,  regalias,  Havanas,  and  manillas;  and,  in 
an  open  cabinet,  a  collection  of  German  pipes,  of  chi- 
bouques, with  their  amber  mouth-pieces  ornamented  with 
coral,  and  of  narguellahs,  with  their  long  tubes  of 
Morocco,  awaited  the  caprice  or  the  sympathy  of  the 
smokers.  Albert  h?d  himself  presided  at  the  arrangement, 
or,  rather,  the  symmetrical  derangement  which,  after 
coffee,  the  guests  at  a  breakfast  of  modern  days  love  to 
contemplate  through  the  vapor  that  escapes  from  their 
mouth,  and  ascends  in  long  and  fanciful  wreaths  to  the 
ceiling.  At  a  quarter  to  ten  a  valet  entered;  he  composed 
with  a  little  groom  named  John,  and  who  only  spoke  En- 
glish, all  Albert's  establishment,  although  the  cook  of  the 
hotel  was  always  at  his  service,  and  on  great  occasions  the 
count's  chasseur  also.  This  valet,  whose  name  was  Ger- 
main, and  who  enjoyed  the  entire  confidence  of  his  young 
master,  held  in  one  hand  a  number  of  papers,  and  in  the 
other  a  packet  of  letters,  which  he  gave  to  Albert.  Albert 
glanced  carelessly  at  the  different  missives,  selected  two 
written  in  a  small  and  delicate  hand,  and  inclosed  in 
scented  envelopes,  opened  them,  and  perused  their  contents 
with  some  attention. 

"  How  did  these  letters  come?"  said  he. 

"  One  by  the  post,  Mme.  Danglars'  footman  left  the 
other." 

"  Let  Mme.  Danglars  know  that  I  accept  the  place 
she  offers  me  in  her  box.  Wait,  then,  during  the  day, 
tell  Rosa  that  when  I  leave  the  opera  I  will  sup  with  her, 
as  she  wishes.  Take  her  six  bottles  of  different  wine — Cy- 
prus, sherry,  and  Malaga,  and  a  barrel  of  Osteud  oysters; 
get  them  at  Borel's,  and  be  sure  you  say  they  are  for  me." 

"  At  what  o'clock,  sir,  do  you  breakfast?" 

"  What  time  is  it  now?" 

"  A  quarter  to  ten." 

"Very  well,  at  10:30.  Debray  will,  perhaps,  be 
obliged  to  go  to  the  minister — and  besides  "  (Albert  looked 
at  his  tablets),  "  it  is  the  hour  I  told  the  count,  21st  May, 
at  10:30 ;  and  though  I  do  not  much  rely  upon  his 
promise,  I  wish  to  be  punctual.  Is  Mme.  la  Comtesse  up 
yet?" 


THE  CO  UNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO,  443 

"  If  M.  le  Vicornte  wishes,  I  will  inquire." 

"  Yes;  ask  her  for  one  of  her  liquer  cellarets,  mine  is 
incomplete,  and  tell  her  I  shall  have  the  honor  of  seeing 
her  about  3  o'clock,  and  that  I  request  permission  to  intro- 
duce some  one  to  her." 

The  valet  left  the  room.  Albert  threw  himself  on  the 
divan,  tore  off  the  cover  of  two  or  three  of  the  papers, 
looked  at  the  playbills,  made  a  face  at  perceiving  they 
played  an  opera,  and  not  a  ballet;  hunted  vainly  among 
the  advertisements  for  a  new  tooth-powder  of  which  he  had 
heard,  and  threw  down,  one  after  the  other,  the  three 
leading  papers  of  Paris,  muttering:  "  These  papers  become 
more  and  more  stupid  every  day."  A  moment  after,  a 
carriage  stopped  before  the  door,  and  the  servant 
announced  M.  Lucien  Debray.  A  tall  young  man,  with 
light  hair,  clear  gray  eyes,  and  thin  and  compressed  lips, 
dressed  in  a  blue  coat  with  buttons  of  gold,  beautifully 
carved,  a  white  neckcloth,  and  a  tortoise-shell  eye-glass, 
suspended  by  a  silken  thread,  and  which,  by  an  effort  of 
the  superciliary  and  zygomatic  nerves,  he  fixed  in  his  eye, 
entered,  with  a  half-official  air,  without  smiling  or  speak- 
ing. 

"Good-morning,  Lucien!  good-morning!"  said  Albert; 
"your  punctuality  really  alarms  me.  What  do  I  say? 
punctuality!  You,  whom  I  expected  last,  you  arrive  at 
9:55,  when  the  time  fixed  was  10:30  o'clock.  Have  minis- 
ters resigned?" 

"  No,  my  dear  fellow,"  returned  the  young  man,  seat- 
ing himself  on  the  divan;  "  reassure  yourself;  we  are  tot- 
tering always,  but  we  never  fall;  and  I  began  to  believe 
that  we  ehall  pass  into  a  state  of  immobility,  and  then  the 
affairs  of  the  Peninsula  will  completely  consolidate  us." 

"  Ah,  true!  you  drive  Don  Carlos  out  of  Spain." 

"  No,  no,  my  dear  fellow,  do  not  confound  our  plans. 
We  take  him  to  the  other  side  of  the  French  frontier,  and 
offer  him  hospitality  at  Bourges." 

"At  Bourges?"  ' 

"  Yes,  he  has  not  much  to  complain  of  ;  Bourges  is  the 
capital  of  Charles  VII.  Do  you  not  know  that  all  Paris 
knew  it  yesterday,  and  the  day  before  it  had  already  trans- 
pired on  the  Bourse,  and  M.  Danglars  (I  do  not  know  by 
what  means  that  man  contrives  to  obtain  intelligence  as 
soon  as  we  do)  made  1,000,000  francs  (£40,000)!" 


444  THE  CO  UNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO. 

"  And  you  another  order,  for  I  see  you  have  a  blue 
ribbon  at  your  button-hole." 

"Yes,  you  sent  me  the  order  of  Charles  III,"  returned 
Debray,  carlessly. 

"Come,  do  not  effect  indifference,  but  confess  you  were 
pleased  to  have  it," 

"Oh,  it  is  very  well  as  a  finish  to  the  toilette.  It  looks 
very  neat  on  a  black  coat  buttoned  up." 

"  And  makes  you  resemble  the  Prince  of  Wales  or  the 
Duke  de  Reichstadt." 

"It  is  for  that  reason  you  see  me  so  early." 

"  Because  you  have  the  order  of  Charles  III,  and  you 
wish  to  announce  the  good  news  to  me?" 

"  No,  because  I  passed  the  night  writing  letters — five- 
and-twenty  dispatches.  I  returned  home  at  daybreak  and 
strove  to  sleep;  but  my  head  ached,  and  I  got  up  to  have 
a  ride  for  an  hour.  At  the  Bois  de  Boulogne,  ennui  and 
hunger  attacked  me  at  once — two  enemies  who  rarely  ac- 
company each  other,  and  who  are  yet  leagued  against  me, 
a  sort  of  Carlo-republican  alliance.  I  then  recollected  you 
gave  a  breakfast  this  morning,  and  here  I  am.  I  "am 
hungry,  feed  me;  I  am  bored,  amuse  me." 

"It  is  my  duty  as  your  host,"  returned  Albert,  ringing 
the  bell,  while  Lucien  turned  over,  with  his  gold-mounted 
cane,  the  papers  that  lay  on  the  table.  "Germain,  a  glass 
of  sherry  and  a  biscuit.  In  the  meantime,  my  dear  Lucien, 
here  are  cigars — contraband,  of  course — try  them,  and  per- 
suade the  minister  to  sell  us  such  instead  of  poisoning  us 
with  cabbage-leaves." 

"  Peste!  I  will  do  nothing  of  the  kind;  the  moment  they 
come  from  government  you  would  find  them  execrable. 
Besides,  that  does  not  concern  the  home  but  the  financial 
department.  Address  yourself  to  M.  Humann,  section  of 
the  indirect  contributions,  Corridor  A.,  No.  26." 

"  On  my  word,"  said  Albert,  "  you  astonish  me  by  the 
extent  of  your  acquaintance.  Take  a  cigar." 

"Really,  my  dear  count,"  replied  Lucien,  lighting  a 
manilla  at  a  rose-colored  taper  that  burned  in  a  stand 
beautifully  enamelled,  "  how  happy  you  are  to  have  noth- 
ing to  do;  you  do  not  know  your  own  good  fortune!" 

"And  what  would  you  do,  my  dear  diplomatist,"  replied 
Morcerf,  with  a  slight  degree  of  irony  in  his  voice,  "  if  you 
did  nothing?  What !  private  secretary  to  a  minister, 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRI8TO.  445 

plunged  at  once  into  European  cabals  and  Parisian  in 
trigues;  having  kings,  and,  better  still,  queens,  to  protect, 
parties  to  unite,  elections  to  direct ;  making  more  use  of 
your  cabinet  with  your  pen  and  your  telegraph  than 
Napoleon  did  of  his  battle-fields  with  his  sword  and  his 
victories;  possessing  25,000  francs  a  year,  besides  your 
place;  a  horse,  for  which  Chateau  Renaud  offered  you  400 
louis,  and  which  you  would  not  part  with;  a  tailor  who 
never  disappoints  you  ;  with  the  opera,  the  jockey-club, 
and  other  varieties,  can  you  not  amuse  yourself?  Well,  I 
will  amuse  you." 

"How?" 

"  By  introducing  to  you  a  new  acquaintance." 

"A  man  or  a  woman?" 
A  man." 

I  know  so  many  already." 
But  you  do  not  know  this  man." 
Where  does  he  come  from — the  end  of  the  world  ?" 

'Farther  still,  perhaps." 

The  devil!    I  hope  he  does  not  bring  our  breakfast 
with  him." 

"  Oh,  no;  our  breakfast  comes  from  my  father's  kitchen. 
Are  you  hungry?" 

"Humiliating  as  such  a  confession  is,  I  am.  But  I 
dined  at  M.  de  Villefort's,  and  lawyers  always  give  you 
very  bad  dinners.  You  would  think  they  felt  some  re- 
morse; did  you  ever  remark  that?" 

"Ah!  depreciate  other  persons' dinners ;  you  ministers 
give  such  splendid  ones." 

"Yes;  but  we  do  not  invite  people  of  fashion.  If  we 
were  not  forced  to  entertain  a  parcel  of  country  boobiea 
because  they  think  and  vote  with  us,  we  should  never 
dream  of  dining  at  home,  I  assure  you." 

"Well,  take  another  glass  of  sherry  and  another  biscuit." 

"  Willingly.  Your  Spanish  wine  is  excellent.  You  see 
we  were  quite  right  to  pacify  that  country." 

"Yes;  but  Don  Carlos?" 

"Well,  Don  Carlos  will  drink  Bordeaux,  and  in  ten 
years  we  will  marry  his  son  to  the  little  queen." 

"You  will  then  obtain  the  Golden  Fleece  if  you  are  still 
in  the  ministry." 

"I  think,  Albert,  you  have  adopted  the  system  of  feed- 
ing me  on  smoke  this  morning." 


446  THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO. 

"Well,  you  must  allow  it  is  the  best  thing  for  the 
stomach;  but  I  hear  Beauchamp  in  the  next  room ;  you 
can  dispute  together,  and  that  will  pass  away  the  time." 

"About  what?" 

"About  the  papers/' 

"  My  dear  friend,"  said  Lucien,  with  an  air  of  sovereign 
contempt,  "  do  I  ever  read  the  papers?" 

"Then  you  will  dispute  the  more." 

"  M.  Beauchamp,"  announced  the  servant. 

"  Enter,  enter,"  said  Albert,  rising  and  advancing  to 
meet  the  young  man.  "  Here  is  Debray  who  detests  you 
without  reading  you,  so  he  says." 

"He  is  quite  right,"  returned  Beauchamp;  "for  I  criti- 
cise him  without  knowing  what  he  does.  Good-day,  com- 
mander!" 

"  Ah!  you  know  that  already,"  said  the  private  secretary, 
smiling  and  shaking  hands  with  him. 

"Pardieu!" 

"  And  what  do  they  say  of  it  in  the  world?" 

"  In  which  world?  we  have  so  many  worlds  in  the  year 
of  grace  1838." 

"  In  the  entire  political  world,  of  which  you  are  one  of 
the  leaders." 

"  They  say  that  it  is  quite  fair ;  and  that  you  sow  so 
much  red,  that  you  must  reap  a  little  blue." 

"Come,  come!  that  is  not  bad!"  said  Lucien.  "Why 
you  do  not  join  our  party,  my  dear  Beauchamp  ?  With 
your  talents  you  would  make  your  fortune  in  three  or  four 
years. " 

"I  only  await  one  thing  before  following  your  advice; 
that  is,  a  minister  who  will  hold  office  for  six  months. 
My  dear  Albert,  one  word;  for  I  must  get  poor  Lucien  a 
respite.  Do  we  breakfast  or  dine?  I  must  go  to  the 
chamber,  for  our  life  is  not  an  idle  one." 

"You  only  breakfast;  I  await  two  persons;  and  the  in- 
stant they  arrive  we  shall  set  down  to  table." 


THE  CO  UNT  OF  MONTE  GRISTO.  447 

CHAPTER  XL. 

THE     BREAKFAST. 

"  ASTD  what  sort  of  persons  do  you  expect  to  breakfast?" 
said  Beauchamp.  "A  gentleman,  and  a  dispomatist." 

"  Then  we  shall  have  to  wait  two  hours  for  the  gentle- 
man,  and  three  for  the  diplomatist.  I  shall  come  back  to 
dessert;  keep  me  some  strawberries,  coffee,  and  cigars.  I 
shall  take  a  cutlet  on  my  way  to  the  chamber. 

"Do  not  do  anything  of  the  sort;  for  were  the  gentle- 
man a  Montmorency,  and  the  diplomatist  a  Metternish,  we 
will  breakfast  at  11  o'clock;  in  the  meantime,  follow  De- 
bray's  example,  and  take  a  glass  of  sherry  and  a  biscuit." 

''Be  it  so;  I  will  stay;  I  must  do  something  to  distract 
my  thoughts." 

""  You  are  like  Debray ;  and  yet  it  seems  to  me  that 
when  the  minister  is  out  of  spirits,  the  opposition  ought  to 
be  joyous." 

"  Ah,  you  do  not  know  with  what  I  am  threatened.  I 
shall  hear  this  morning  M.  Danglars  make  a  speech  at  the 
chamber  of  deputies;  and  at  his  wife's  this  evening  I  shall 
hear  the  tragedy  of  a  peer  of  France.  The  devil  take  the 
constitutional  government!  and  since  we  had  our  choice, 
as  they  say,  at  least,  how  could  we  choose  that?" 

"I  understand;  you  must  lay  in  a  stock  of  hilarity." 

"  Do  not  run  down  M.  Danglars'  speeches,"  said  De- 
bray;  "  he  votes  for  you,  for  he  belongs  to  the  opposition." 

"  Pardieu!  that  is  exactly  the  worst  of  all.  I  am  wait- 
ing until  you  send  him  to  speak  at  the  Luxembourg  to 
laugh t  at  my  ease." 

"My  dear  friend,"  said  Albert  to  Beauchamp,  "it  is 
plain  the  affairs  of  Spain  are  settled,  for  you  are  most 
desperately  out  of  humor  this  morning.  Recollect  that 
Parisian  gossip  has  spoken  of  a  marriage  between  myself 
and  Mdlle.  Eugenie  Danglars;  I  cannot  in  conscience, 
therefore,  let  you  run  down  the  speeches  of  a  man  who  will 
one  day  say  to  me,  *  M.  le  Vicomte,  you  know  I  give  my 
daughter  £80, 000.'" 

"  Ah,  this  marriage  will  never  take  place,"  said  Beau- 
champ.  "  The  king  has  made  him  a  baron,  and  can  make 
him  a  peer,  but  he  cannot  make  him  a  gentleman;  and 


448  THE  CO  UNT  OF  MONTE  CRI8TO. 

the  Count  de  Morcerf  is  too  aristocratic  to  consent  for  the 
paltry  sum  of  £80,000  to  a  mesalliance.  The  Viscount 
de  Morcerf  can  only  wed  a  marchioness." 

"  But  £80,000  is  a  nice  little  sum,"  replied  Morcerf. 

"  It  is  the  social  capital  of  a  theater  on  the  boulevard  or 
a  railroad  from  the  Jardin  des  Plantes  to  la  Rapee." 

"  Never  mind  what  he  says,  Morcerf,"  said  Debray, 
"  do  you  marry  her.  You  marry  a  ticket  of  a  money-bag, 
it  is  true;  well,  but  what  does  that  matter?  It  is  better 
to  have  a  blazen  less  and  a  figure  more  on  it.  You  have 
seven  marlets  on  your  arms;  give  three  to  your  wife  and 
you  will  still  have  four;  that  is  one  more  than  M.  de 
Guise  had,  who  so  nearly  became  king  of  France  and 
whose  cousin  was  emperor  of  Germany." 

"On  my  word,  I  think  you  are  right,  Lucien,"  said 
Albert,  absently. 

"  To  be  sure;  besides,  every  millionaire  is  as  noble  as  a 
bastard — that  is,  he  can  be." 

"  Do  not  say  that,  Debray,"  returned  Beauchamp. 
laughing,  "  for  here  is  Chateau  Eenaud  who,  to  cure  you 
of  your  mania  for  paradoxes,  Avill  pass  the  sword  of  Kenaud 
de  Moutauban,  his  ancestor,  through  your  body." 

"He  will  sully  it,  then,"  returned  Lucien,  "for  I  am 
low — very  low." 

"  Oh,  heavens!"  cried  Beauchamp,  "  the  minister  quotes 
Beranger;  what  shall  we  come  to  next?" 

"M.  de  Chdteau  Eenaud!  M.  Maximilian  Morrel!"  said 
the  servant,  announcing  two  fresh  guests. 

"Now,  then,  to  breakfast,"  said  Beauchamp,  "for,  if  I 
remember,  you  told  me  you  only  expected  two  persons, 
Albert." 

"Morrel,"  muttered  Albert,  "  Morrel!  who  is  he?" 

But  before  he  had  finished  M.  de  Chateau  Renaud,  a 
handsome  young  man  of  30,  gentleman  all  over,  that  is, 
with  the  figure  of  a  Guiche  and  the  wit  of  a  Montemart, 
took  Albert's  hand. 

"My  dear  Albert,"  said  he,  "let  me  introduce  to  you 
M.  Maximilian  Morrel,  captain  of  Spahis,  my  friend;  and 
what  is  more — however,  the  man  speaks  for  himself — my 
preserver.  Salute  my  hero,  viscount." 

And  he  stepped  on  one  side,  exhibiting  the  large  and 
open  brow,  the  piercing  eyes  and  black  moustache  of  the 
fine  and  noble  young  man  whom  our  readers  have  already 


THE  CO  UNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO.  449 

seen  at  Marseilles  under  circumstances  sufficiently  dra- 
matic not  to  be  forgotten.  A  rich  uniform,  half  French, 
half  Oriental,  set  off  his  broad  chest,  decorated  with  the 
order  of  the  Legion  of  Honor,  and  his  graceful  and  stal- 
wart figure.  The  young  officer  bowed  with  easy  and  ele- 
gant politeness. 

"Monsieur,"  said  Albert,  with  affectionate  courtesy, 
"M.  le  Comte  de  Chateau  Renaud  knew  how  much  pleas- 
use  this  introduction  would  give  me;  you  are  his  friend, 
be  ours  also." 

"Well  said/' interrupted  Chateau  Renaud;  "and  pray 
that  if  you  should  ever  be  in  a  similar  predicament  he  may 
do  as  much  for  you  as  he  did  for  me." 

"What  has  he  done?"  asked  Albert. 

"Oh!  nothing  worth  speaking  of,"  said  Morrel;  "M. 
de  Chateau  Renaud  exaggerates." 

"  Not  worth  speaking  of  ?"  cried  Chateau  Renaud; 
"life  is  not  worth  speaking  of  !  That  is  rather  too  philo- 
sophical, on  my  word,  Morrel.  It  is  very  well  for  you, 
who  risk  your  life  every  day;  but  for  me,  who  only  did  so 
once " 

"  What  is  evident  in  all  this,  baron,  is  that  M.  le  Capt. 
Morrel  saved  your  life." 

"Exactly  so." 

"On  what  occasion?"  asked  Beauchamp. 

"Beauchamp,  my  good  fellow,  you  know  I  am  starv- 
ing," said  Debray;  "  do  not  set  him  off  on  some  long 
story." 

"  Well,  I  do  not  prevent  your  sitting  down  to  table," 
replied  Beauchamp.  "  Chateau  Reuaud  can  tell  us  while 
we  eat  our  breakfast." 

"  Gentlemen,"  said  Morcerf,  "  it  is  only  10:15  o'clock, 
and  I  expect  some  one  else." 

"Ah,  true,  a  diplomatist!"  observed  Debray. 

"  I  know  not  whether  he  be  or  not;  I  only  know  that  I 
gave  him  a  mission  which  he  terminated  so  entirely  to  my 
satisfaction  that  had  I  been  king  I  should  have  instantly 
created  him  knight  of  all  my  orders,  even  had  I  been  able 
to  offer  him  the  Golden  Fleece  and  the  Garter." 

"  Well,  since  we  are  not  to  sit  down  to  table,"  said  De- 
bray, "  take  a  glass  of  sherry  and  tell  us  all  about  it." 

"  You  all  know  that  I  had  the  fancy  of  going  to 
Africa  ?" 


450  THE  CO  UNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO. 

"  It  is  a  road  your  ancestors  have  traced  for  you,"  said 
Albert,  gallantly. 

"Yes,  but  I  doubt  that  your  object  was  like  theirs— to 
rescue  the  Holy  Sepulcher." 

"  You  are  quite  right,  Beauchamp,"  observed  the  young 
aristocrat.  "  It  was  only  to  fight  as  an  amateur.  I  can- 
not bear  dueling  ever  since  two  seconds,  whom  I  had 
chosen  to  accommodate  a  quarrel,  forced  me  to  break  the 
arm  of  one  of  my  best  friends,  one  whom  you  all  know — 
poor  Franz  d'Epinay!" 

"  Ah,  true,"  said  Debray,  "  you  did  fight  some  time 
ago— about  what?" 

"  The  devil  take  me,  if  I  remember!"  returned  Chateau 
Renaud.  "  But  I  recollect  perfectly  one  thing,  that, 
being  unwilling  to  let  such  talents  as  mine  sleep,  I  wished 
to  try  upon  the  Arabs  the  new  pistols  that  had  been  given 
to  me.  In  consequence,  I  embarked  for  Oran,  and  went 
from  thence  to  Constantino,  where  I  arrived  just  in  time 
to  witness  the  raising  of  the  siege.  I  retreated  with  the 
rest  during  forty-eight  hours.  I  supported  the  rain  dur- 
ing the  day  and  the  cold  during  the  night  tolerably  well, 
but  the  third  morning  my  horse  died  of  cold.  Poor  brute! 
accustomed  to  be  covered  up  and  to  have  a  stove  in  the 
stable,  the  Arabian  finds  himself  unable  to  bear  ten  de- 
grees of  cold  in  Arabia." 

"  That  is  why  you  want  to  purchase  my  English  horse," 
said  Debray;  "  you  think  he  will  support  the  cold  better." 

"  You  are  mistaken,  for  I  have  made  a  vow  never  to 
return  to  Africa." 

"  You  were  very  much  frightened,  then?"  asked  Beau- 
champ. 

"I  confess  it;  and  I  had  a  good  reason  to  be  so,"  re- 
plied Chateau  Renaud.  "  I  was  retreating  on  foot,  for 
my  horse  was  dead.  Six  Arabs  came  up,  full  gallop,  to 
cut  off  my  head.  I  shot  two  with  my  double-barreled 
gun,  and  two  more  with  my  pistols,  but  I  was  then  dis- 
armed and  two  were  still  left.  One  seized  me  by  the  hair 
(that  is  why  I  now  wear  it  so  short,  for  no  one  knows 
what  may  happen),  the  other  encircled  my  neck  with  the 
yataghan,  when  this  gentleman  whom  you  see  here  charged 
them,  shot  the  one  who  held  me  by  the  hair  with  a  pistol 
and  cleft  the  skull  of  the  other  with  his  saber.  He  had 
assigned  himself  the  task  of  saving  the  life  of  a  man  that 


THE  CO  UNT  OF  MONTE  CR18TO.  451 

day;  chance  caused  that  man  to  be  myself.  When  I  am 
rich  I  will  order  a  statue  of  Chance  from  Klugmann  or 
Marochetti." 

"  Yes,"  said  Morrel,  smiling,  "  it  was  the  5th  of  Sep- 
tember, the  anniversary  of  the  day  on  which  my  father  was 
miraculously  preserved;  therefore,  as  far  as  it  lies  in  my 
power,  1  endeavor  to  celebrate  it  by  some -" 

"  Heroic  action,"  interrupted  Chateau  Renaud.  "  I 
was  chosen.  But  this  is  not  all;  after  rescuing  me  from 
the  sword  he  rescued  me  from  the  cold,  not  by  sharing  his 
cloak  with  me,  like  St.  Martin,  but  by  giving  it  me  all ; 
then  from  hunger  by  sharing  with  me — guess  what?" 

"  A  Strasbourg  pie."  asked  Beauchamp. 

"  No,  his  horse;  of  which  we  each  of  us  ate  a  slice  with 
a  hearty  appetite.  It  was  very  hard." 

"  The  horse  ?"  said  Morcerf,  laughing. 

"No,  the  sacrifice,"  returned  Chateau  Renaud;  "ask 
Debray  if  he  would  sacrifice  his  English  steed  for  a 
stranger  ?" 

"  Not  for  a  stranger,"  said  Debray,  "  but  for  a  friend  I 
might,  perhaps." 

"  I  divined  that  you  would  become  mine,  M.  le  Comte," 
replied  Morrel;  "  besides,  as  I  had  the  honor  to  tell  you, 
heroism  or  not,  sacrifice  or  not,  that  day  I  owed  an  offer- 
ing to  bad  fortune  in  recompense  for  the  favors  good  fort- 
une had  on  other  days  granted  to  us." 

"The  history  to  which  M.  Morrel  alludes,"  continued 
Chateau  Renaud,  "  is  an  admirable  one,  which  he  will  tell 
you  some  day  when  you  are  better  acquainted  with  him; 
to-day  let  us  fill  our  stomachs,  and  not  our  memories. 
What  time  do  you  breakfast,  Albert  ?" 

"At  10:30." 

"  Precisely  ?"  asked  Debray,  taking  out  his  watch. 

"  Oh !"  you  will  give  me  five  minutes  grace,"  replied 
Morcerf,"  for  I  also  expect  a  preserver." 

"Of  whom  ?" 

"  Of  myself,"  cried  Morcerf;  "parUeu  !  do  you  think 
I  cannot  be  saved  as  well  as  any  one  else,  and  that  there  are 
only  Arabs  who  cut  off  heads  ?  Our  breakfast  is  a  phil- 
anthrophic  one,  and  we  shall  have  at  table— at  least  I  hope 
so — two  benefactors  of  humanity." 

"What  shall  we  do?"  said  Debray;  "we  have  only  one 
Monthyon  prize." 


452  THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO. 

"  Well,  it  will  be  given  to  some  one  who  has  done  noth- 
ing to  deserve  it,"  said  Beauchamp;  "  that  is  the  way  the 
Academy  mostly  escapes  from  the  dilemma." 

"And where  does  he  come  from?" asked  Dehray.  "You 
have  already  answered  the  question  once,  but  so  vaguely, 
that  I  venture  to  put  it  a  second  time." 

"  Keally,"  said  Albert,  "  I  do  not  know;  when  I  invited 
him  three"  months  ago,  he  was  then  at  Rome,  but  since  that 
time,  who  knows  where  he  may  have  gone  ?" 

"  And  you  think  him  capable  of  being  exact?" demanded 
Debray. 

"I  think  him  capable  of  everything." 

"  Well,  with  the  five  minutes  grace,  we  have  only  ten  left." 

"  I  will  profit  by  them  to  tell  you  something  about  my 
guest." 

"I  beg  pardon,"  interrupted  Beauchamp;  "are  there 
any  materials  for  an  article  in  what  vou  are  going  to 
tell  us?" 

"Yes,  and  for  a  most  curious  one." 

"  Go  on,  then,  for  I  see  I  shall  not  get  to  the  chamber 
this  morning,  and  I  must  make  up  for  it." 

"I  was  at  Borne  the  last  carnival." 

"  We  know  that,"  said  Beauchamp. 

"  Yes,  but  what  you  do  not  know  is  that  I  was  carried 
off  by  bandits." 

"  There  are  no  bandits,"  cried  Debray. 

"Yes  there  are,  and  most  hideous,  or  rather  most  ad- 
mirable ones,  for  I  found  them  ugly  enough  to  frighten 
me." 

"  Coine,  my  dear  Albert,"  said  Debray,  "  confess  that 
your  cook  is  behind  hand,  that  the  oysters  have  not  arrived 
from  Ostend  or  Marennes,  and  that,  like  Mme.  de  Main- 
tenon,  you  are  going  to  replace  the  dish  by  a  story.  Say 
so  at  once;  we  are  sufficiently  well-bred  to  excuse  you,  and 
to  listen  to  your  history,  fabulous  as  it  promises  to  be." 

"And  I  say  to  you,  fabulous  as  it  may  seem,  I  tell  it  as 
a  true  one  from  beginning  to  end.  The  brigands  had  car- 
ried me  off  and  conducted  me  to  a  most  gloomy  spot, 
called  the  catacombs  of  St.  Sebastian." 

"  I  know  it,"  said  Chateau  Renaud;  "  I  narrowly  escaped 
catching  a  fever  there." 

"  And  I  did  more  than  that,"  replied  Morcerf,  "  for  I 
caught  one.  I  was  informed  I  was  a  prisoner  until  I  paid 


I  HE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRI8TO.  453 

the  sum  of  4,000  Roman  crowns  —  about  24,000  francs 
(£960).  Unfortunately,  I  had  not  above  1,500.  I  was 
at  the  end  of  my  journey  and  of  my  credit.  I  wrote  to 
Franz — and  were  he  here  he  would  confirm  every  word — I 
wrote  then  to  Franz  that  if  he  did  not  come  with  the 
4,000  crowns  before  6  o'clock,  at  ten  minutes  past  I  should 
have  gone  to  join  the  blessed  saints  and  glorious  martyrs,  in 
whose  company  I  had  the  honor  of  being  ;  and  Signor 
Luigi  Vampa,  such  was  the  name  of  the  chief  of  these 
bandits,  would  have  scrupulously  kept  his  word." 

"  But  Franz  did  come  with  the  4,000  crowns,"  said 
Chateau  Renaud.  "A  man  whose  name  is  Franz  d'Epinay 
or  Albert  de  Morcerf  has  not  much  difficulty  in  procuring 
them." 

"  No,  he  arrived  accompanied  simply  by  the  guest  I  am 
going  to  present  to  you." 

"Ah!  this  gentleman  is  a  Hercules  killing  Cacus,  a 
Perseus  freeing  Andromeda  I" 

No,  he  is  a  man  about  my  own  size." 
Armed  to  the  teeth  ?" 
He  had  not  even  a  knitting-needle." 
But  he  paid  your  ransom  ? 
He  said  two  words  to  the  chief,  and  I  was  free." 
'And  they  apologized  to  him  for  having  carried  you 
off  ?"  said  Beauchamp. 
Just  so." 

'  Why,  he  is  a  second  Ariosto." 
'  No,  his  name  is  Count  of  Monte  Cristo." 
There  is  not  a  Count  of  Monte  Cristo,"  said  Debray. 
I  do  not  think  so,"  added  Chateau  Renaud,  with  the 
air  of  a  man  who   knows  the   whole    of    the  European 
nobility  perfectly. 

"  Does  any  one  know  anything  of  a  Count  of  Monte 
Cristo?" 

"  He  comes  possibly  from  the  Holy  Laud,  and  one  of 
his  ancestors  possessed  Calvary,  and  the  Montemarts  did 
the  Red  sea." 

"  I  think  I  can  assist  your  researches,"  said  Maximilian, 
"  Monte  Cristo  is  a  little  island  I  have  often  heard  spoken 
of  by  the  old  sailors  my  father  employed — a  grain  of  sand 
in  the  center  of  the  Mediterranean,  an  atom  in  the  in- 
finite." 

"Precisely  !"  cried  Albert.     "  Well,  he  of  whom  I  speak 

DUMAS— VOL.  I.— 20 


454  THE  CO  UNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO. 

is  the  lord  and  master  of  this  grain  of  sand,  of  this  atom  ; 
he  has  purchased  the  title  of  count  somewhere  in  Tuscany." 

"  He  is  rich,  then?" 

"I  believe  so." 

"  But  that  ought  to  be  visible." 

"That  is  what  deceives  you,  Debray." 

"  I  do  not  understand  you." 

"  Have  you  read  the  '  Arabian  Nights '?" 

"  What  a  question  !" 

"Well,  do  you  know  if  the  persons  you  see  there  are  rich 
or  poor,  if  their  sacks  of  wheat  are  not* rubies  or  diamonds? 
They  seem  like  poor  fishermen,  and  suddenly  they  open 
some  mysterious  cavern  filled  with  the  wealth  of  the 
Indies." 

"Afterward?" 

"  My  Count  of  Monte  Cristo  is  one  of  those  fishermen. 
He  has  even  a  name  taken  from  the  book,  since  he  calls 
himself  'Sinbad  the  Sailor/  and  has  a  cave  filled  with 
gold." 

"And  you  have  seen  this  cavern,  Morcerf  ?"  asked  Beau- 
champ. 

"  No,  but  Franz  has ;  for  heaven's  sake,  not  a  word  of 
this  before  him.  Franz  went  in  with  his  eyes  blindfolded, 
and  was  served  by  mutes  and  women  to  whom  Cleopatra 
was  nothing.  Only  he  is  not  quite  sure  about  the  women, 
for  they  did  not  come  in  until  after  he  had  taken  some 
hatchis,  so  that  what  he  took  for  women  might  have  been 
simply  a  row  of  statues." 

The  two  young  men  looked  at  Morcerf  as  if  to  say  : 

"Are  you  mad,  or  are  you  laughing  at  us?" 

"And  I  also,"  said  Morrel,  thoughtfully,  "have  heard 
something  like  this  from  an  old  sailor  named  Penelon." 

"Ah  !"  cried  Albert,  "  it  is  very  lucky  that  M.  Morrel 
comes  to  aid  me  ;  you  are  vexed,  are  you  not,  that  he  thus 
gives  a  clue  to  the  labyrinth  ?" 

"  My  dear  Albert,"  said  Debray,  "  what  you  tell  us  is  so 
extraordinary." 

"Ah  !  because  your  ambassadors  and  your  consuls  do  not 
tell  you  of  them — they  have  no  time.  They  must  not 
molest  their  countrymen  who  travel." 

"  Now  you  get  angry,  and  attack  our  poor  agents.  How 
will  you  have  them  protect  you?  The  chamber  cuts  down 
their  salaries  every  day,  so  that  now  they  have  scarcely 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRI8TO.  455 

any.  Will  you  be  ambassador,  Albert?  I  will  send  you  to 
Constantinople." 

"  No,  lest  on  the  first  demonstration  I  make  in  favor  of 
Mehemet  Ali,  the  Sultan  send  me  the  bowstring,  and  make 
my  secretaries  strangle  me. " 

"There,  now  I"  said  Debray.  "Yes,  but  this  does  not 
prevent  the  Count  of  Monte  Cristo  from  existing." 

"Pardieu!  everyone  exists." 

"  Doubtless,  but  not  in  the  same  way  ;  everyone  has  not 
black  slaves,  superb  galleys,  arms  like  those  at  La  Casauba, 
Arabian  horses,  and  Greek  mistresses.  ' 

"  Have  you  seen  his  Greek?" 

"I  have  both  seen  and  heard  her.  I  saw  her  at  the 
theater,  and  heard  her  one  morning  when  I  breakfasted 
with  the  count." 

"He  eats,  then?" 

"  Yes  ;  but  so  little,  it  can  hardly  be  called  eating." 

"  He  must  be  a  vampire." 

"Laugh,  if  you  will;  the  Countess  G ,  who  had 

known  Lord  Kuthven,  declared  the  count  was  a  vampire." 

"Ah,  capital  !"  said  Beauchamp.  "For  a  man  not  con- 
nected with  newspapers,  here  is  the  pendant  to  the  famous 
sea-serpent  of  the  Constitutionnel." 

"Wild  eyes,  the  iris  of  which  contracts  or  dilates  at 
pleasure,"  said  Debray ;  facial  angle  strongly  developed, 
magnificent  forehead,  livid  complexion,  black  beard,  sharp 
and  white  teeth,  politeness  unexceptionable." 

"Just  so,  Lucien,"  returned  Morcerf  ;  "you  have  de- 
scribed him  feature  for  feature.  Yes,  keen  and  cutting 
politeness.  This  man  has  often  made  me  shudder  !  and 
one  day  that  we  were  viewing  an  execution,  I  thought  I 
should  faint,  more  from  hearing  the  cold  and  calm  man- 
ner in  which  he  spoke  of  every  description  of  torture  than 
from  the  sight  of  the  executioner  and  the  culprit." 

"  Did  he  not  conduct  you  to  the  ruins  of  the  Colosseum 
and  suck  your  blood,?"  asked  Beauchamp. 

"  Or,  after  having  delivered  you,  make  you  sign  a  blood- 
colored  parchment  surrendering  your  soul  to  him?" 


"  Rail  on,  rail  on  at  your  ease,  gentlemen,"  said  Mor- 
cerf, somewhat  piqued.  "When  I  look  at  you  Parisians, 
idlers  on  the  Boulevard  de  Gand  or  the  Bois  de  Boulogne, 
and  think  of  this  man,  it  seems  to  me  we  are  not  of  the 
same  race." 


456  THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRI8TO. 

"I  am  highly  flattered,"  returned  Beauchamp.  "At 
the  same  time,"  added  Chateau  Renaud,  "  your  Count  of 
Monte  Cristo  is  a  very  fine  fellow,  always  excepting  his 
little,  arrangements  with  the  Italian  banditti." 

"  There  are  no  Italian  banditti  I"  said  Debray. 

' *  No  vampire  !"  cried  Beauchamp. 

"  No  Count  of  Monte  Cristo  !"  added  Debray.  "  There 
is  10:30  o'clock  striking,  Albert !" 

"  Confess  you  have  dreamed  this,  and  let  us  sit  down  to 
breakfast,"  continued  Beauchamp. 

But  the  sound  of  the  clock  had  not  died  away  when 
Germain  announced  : 

"His  Excellency  the  Count  of  Monte  Cristo." 

The  involuntary  start  everyone  gave  proved  how  much 
Morcerf's  narrative  had  impressed  them,  and  Albert  him- 
self could  not  prevent  himself  from  feeling  a  sudden 
emotion.  He  had  not  heard  a  carriage  stop  in  the  street, 
or  steps  in  the  ante-chamber  ;  the  door  had  itself  opened 
noiselessly.  The  count  appeared,  dressed  with  the  greatest 
simplicity  ;  but  the  most  fastidious  dandy  could  have 
found  nothing  to  cavil  at  in  his  toilette  ;  every  article  of 
dress — hat,  coat,  gloves,  and  boots — were  from  the  first 
makers.  He  seemed  scarcely  35  years  old.  But  what 
struck  everybody  was  his  extreme  resemblance  to  the  por- 
trait Debray  had  drawn.  The  count  advanced,  smiling, 
into  the  center  of  the  room,  and  approached  Albert,  who 
hastened  toward  him,  holding  out  his  hand. 

"Punctuality,"  said  Monte  Cristo,,  "is  the  politeness  of 
kings,  according  to  one  of  your  sovereigns,  I  think  ;  but  it 
is  not  the  same  with  travelers.  However,  I  hope  you  will 
excuse  the  two  or  three  seconds  I  am  behind  hand  ;  500 
leagues  are  not  to  be  accomplished  without  some  trouble, 
and  especially  in  France,  where,  it  seems,  it  is  forbidden 
to  beat  the  postilions." 

"  M.  le  Comte,"  replied  Albert,  "I  was  announcing 
your  visit  to  some  of  mv  friends,  whom  I  had  invited  in 
consequence  of  the  promise  you  did  me  the  honor  to  make, 
and  whom  I  now  present  to  you.  They  are  M.  le  Comte 
de  Cha'teau  Renaud,  whose  nobility  goes  back  to  the  twelve 
peers,  and  whose  ancestors  had  a  place  at  the  Round 
Table ;  M.  Lucien  Debray,  private  secretary  to  the  Ministre 
de  1'Interieur ;  M.  Beauchamp,  an  editor  of  a  paper,  and 
the  terror  of  the  French  Government,  but  of  whom,  in 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRI82O.  457 

spite  of  his  celebrity,  you  have  not  heard  in  Italy,  since  his 
paper  is  prohibited  there  ;  and  M.  Maximilian  Morrel, 
captain  of  Spahis." 

At  this  name  the  count,  who  had  hitherto  saluted  every- 
one with  courtesy,  but  at  the  same  time  with  coldness  and 
formality,  stepped  a  pace  forward,  and  a  slight  tinge  of 
red  colored  his  pale  cheeks. 

"You  wear  the  uniform  of  the  new  French  conquerors, 
monsieur,"  said  he  ;  "  it  is  a  handsome  uniform." 

No  one  could  have  said  what  caused  the  count's  voice  to 
vibrate  so  deeply,  and  what  made  his  eye  flash,  which  was 
in  general  so  clear,  lustrous,  and  limped  when  he  pleased. 

"  You  have  never  seen  our  Africans,  M.  le  Comte?" 
said  Albert. 

"  Never,"  replied  the  count,  who  was  by  this  time  per- 
fectly master  of  himself  again," 

"  Well,  beneath  this  uniform  beats  one  of  the  bravest 
and  noblest  hearts  in  the  whole  army." 

"Oh,  M.  de  Morcerf  i"  interrupted  Morrel. 

"  Let  me  go  on  captain !  And  we  have  just  heard," 
continued  Albert,  "of  a  fresh  action  of  monsieur,  and  so 
heroic  a  one,  that,  although  I  have  seen  him  to-day  for  the 
first  time,  I  request  you  to  allow  me  to  introduce  him  zis 
my  friend." 

At  these  words  it  was  still  possible  to  remark  in  Monte 
Cristo  that  fixed  gaze,  that  passing  color,  and  that  slight 
trembling  of  the  eyelid  that  showed  his  emotion. 

"Ah!  you  have  a  noble  heart,"  said  the  count;  "so 
much  the  better." 

This  exclamation,  which  corresponded  to  the  count's 
own  thought  rather  than  to  what  Albert  was  saying,  sur- 
prised everybody,  and  especially  Morrel,  who  looked  at 
Monte  Cristo  with  surprise.  But,  at  the  same  time,  the 
intonation  was  so  soft  that,  however,  strange  the  exclama 
tion  might  seem,  it  was  impossible  to  be  offended  at  it. 

"  Why  should  he  doubt  it?"  said  Beauchamp  to  Chateau 
Renand. 

"  In  reality,"  replied  the  latter,  who,  with  his  aristo- 
cratic glance  and  his  knowledge  of  the  world,  had  pene- 
trated at  once  all  that  was  penetratable  in  Monte  Cristo, 
"  Albert  has  not  deceived  us,  for  the  count  is  a  most 
singular  being.  What  say  you,  Morrel?" 

"  Ma  foil  he  has  an  open  look  about  him  that  pleases 


458  THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO. 

me,  in  spite  of  the  singular  remark  he  has  made  about  me.'* 

"Gentlemen/'  said  Albert,  "  Germain  informs  me  break* 
fast  is  ready.  My  dear  count,  allow  me  to  show  you  the 
way." 

They  passed  silently  into  the  breakfast-room;  every  one 
took  his  place. 

"  Gentlemen,"  said  the  count,  seating  himself,  "permit 
me  to  make  a  confession  which  must  form  my  excuse  for 
any  inconvenances  I  may  commit.  I  am  a  stranger,  and  a 
stranger  to  such  a  degree  that  this  is  the  first  time  I  have 
ever  been  at  Paris.  The  French  way  of  living  is  utterly 
unknown  to  me,  and  up  to  the  present  time  I  have  followed 
the  eastern  customs,  which  are  entirely  in  contrast  to  the 
Parisian.  I  beg  you,  therefore,  to  excuse  if  you  find  any- 
thing in  me  too  Turkish,  too  Italian,  or  too  Arabian. 
Now,  then,  let  us  breakfast." 

"  With  what  an  air  he  says  all  this?"  muttered  Beau- 
champ;  "decidedly  he  is  a  great  man." 

"  A  great  man  in  his  country,"  added  Debray. 

"  A  great  man  in  every  country,  M.  Debray/'  said 
Chateau  Kenaud. 

The  count  was,  it  may  be  remembered,  a  most  temperate 
guest.  Albert  remarked  this,  expressing  his  fears  lest,  at 
the  outset,  the  Parisian  mode  of  life  should  displease  the 
traveler  in  the  most  essential  point. 

"  My  dear  count,"  said  he,  "  I  fear  one  thing  and  that  is 
that  the  fare  of  the  Rue  du  Helder  is  not  so  much  to  your 
taste  as  that  of  the  Place  d'Espagne.  I  ought  to  have 
consulted  you  on  the  point  and  have  had  some  dishes  pre- 
pared expressly." 

"  Did  you  know  me  better,"  returned  the  count,  smiling, 
"  you  would  not  give  one  thought  of  such  a  thing  for  a 
traveler  like  myself,  who  has  successfully  lived  on  macca- 
roni  at  Naples,  polenta  at  Milan,  olla  podrida  at  Valencia, 
pilau  at  Constantinople,  karrick  in  India,  and  swallows' 
nests  in  China.  I  eat  everywhere  and  of  everything,  only 
I  eat  but  little;  and  to-day,  that  you  reproach  me  with  my 
want  of  appetite,  is  my  day  of  appetite,  for  I  have  not 
eaten  since  yesterday  morning." 

"  What?"  cried  all  the  guests,  "  you  have  not  eaten  for 
four-and-twenty  hours?" 

"  No,"  replied  the  count;  "  I  was  forced  to  go  out  of 
my  road  to  obtain  some  information  near  Nimes,  so  that  I 


'i'RE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO.  459 

was  somewhat  late,  and,  therefore,   I  did  not  choose  to 

BtOp." 

"  And  you  ate  in  your  carriage?"  asked  Morcerf. 

"  No,  t  slept,  as  I  generally  do  when  I  am  -veary  with- 
out having  the  courage  to  amuse  myself,  or  when  I  am 
hungry  without  feeling  inclined  to  eat." 

if  But  you  can  sleep  when  you  please,  monsieur?"  asked 
Morrel. 

'  Yes." 

"  You  have  a  receipt  for  it?" 

<(  An  infallible  one." 

"  That  would  be  invaluable  to  us  in  Africa,  who  have 
not  always  any  food  to  eat  and  rarely  anything  to  drink/ 

"Yes,"  said  Monte  Cristo;  "but,  unfortunately,  a 
receipt  excellent  for  a  man  like  myself  would  be  very  dan- 
gerous applied  to  an  army,  which  might  not  awaken  when 
it  was  needed." 

"  May  we  inquire  what  is  this  receipt?"  asked  Debray, 

"  Oh,  yes,"  returned  Monte  Cristo;  ''  I  make  no  secret 
of  it.  It  is  a  mixture  of  excellent  opium,  which  I  fetched 
myself  from  Canton  in  order  to  have  it  pure,  and  the  best 
hatchis  which  grows  in  the  east — that  is,  between  the 
Tigris  and  the  Euphrates.  These  two  ingredients  are 
mixed  in  equal  proportions  and  formed  into  pills.  Ten 
minutes  after  one  is  taken,  the  effect  is  produced.  Ask 
M.  le  Baron  Franz  d'Epinay;  I  think  he  tasted  them  one 
day," 

"  Yes,"  replied  Morcerf,  "  he  said  something  about  it 
to  me." 

"  But,"  said  Beauchamp,  who,  in  his  capacity  of  jour- 
nalist, was  very  incredulous,  "  you  always  carry  this  drug 
about  you?" 

"Always." 

"  Would  it  be  an  indiscretion  to  ask  to  see  those  precious 
pills?"  continued  Beauchamp,  hoping  to  take  him  at  a  dis- 
advantage. 

"No,  monsieur,"  returned  the  count;  and  he  drew 
from  his  pocket  a  marvelous  bonbonnidre,  formed  out  of  a 
single  emerald,  and  closed  by  a  golden  lid,  which  un- 
screwed and  gave  passage  to  a  small  ball  of  greenish  color 
and  about  the  size  of  a  pea.  This  ball  had  an  acrid  and 
penetrating  odor.  There  were  four  or  five  more  in  the 
emerald,  which  would  contain  about  a  dozen.  The  bon- 


460  THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRI8TO. 

bonniere  passed  round  the  table,  but  it  was  more  to  exam- 
ine the  admirable  emerald  than  to  see  the  pills  that  it 
passed  from  hand  to  hand. 

"And  is  it  your  cook  who  prepares  these  pills?"  asked 
Beauchanip. 

"Oh,  no,  monsieur,"  replied  Monte  Cristo;  "I  do  not 
thus  betray  my  enjoyments  to  the  vulgar.  I  am  a  toler- 
able chemist  and  prepare  my  pills  myself." 

"  This  is  a  magnificent  emerald  and  the  largest  I  have 
ever  seen,"  said  Chateau  Renaud,  "  although  my  mother 
has  some  remarkable  family  jewels." 

"  I  had  three  similar  ones/'  returned  Monte  Cristo.  "  I 
gave  one  to  the  grand  seigneur,  who  mounted  it  in  his 
saber;  another  to  our  holy  father,  the  pope,  who  had  it 
set  in  his  tiara,  opposite  to  nearly  as  large,  though  not  so 
fine  a  one,  given  by  the  Emperor  Napoleon  to  his  prede- 
cessor, Pius  VII.  I  kept  the  third  for  myself  and  I  had  it 
hollowed  out,  which  reduced  its  value,  but  rendered  it  more 
commodious  for  the  purpose  I  intended  it  for." 

Every  one  looked  at  Monte  Cristo  with  astonishment;  he 
spoke  with  so  much  simplicity  that  it  was  evident  that  he 
spoke  the  truth  or  that  he  was  mad.  However,  the  sight 
of  the  emerald  made  them  naturally  incline  to  the  former 
belief. 

"  And  what  did  these  two  sovereigns  give  you  in  ex- 
change for  these  magnificent  presents?"  asked  Debray. 

"The  grand  seigneur,  the  liberty  of  a  woman,"  replied 
the  count;  "the  pope,  the  life  of  a  man;  so  that  once  in 
my  life  I  have  been  as  powerful  as  if  heaven  had  made  me 
come  into  the  world  on  the  steps  of  a  throne." 

"And  it  was  Peppino  you  saved,  was  it  not?"  cried 
Morcerf;  "it  was  for  him  that  you  obtained  pardon?" 

"  Perhaps,"  returned  the  count,  smiling. 

"M.  le  Comte,  you  have  no  idea  what  pleasure  it 
gives  me  to  hear  you  speak  thus,"  said  Morcerf.  "  I  had 
announced  you  beforehand  to  my  friends  as  an  enchanter 
of  the  '  Arabian  Nights/  a  wizard  of  the  middle  ages;  but 
the  Parisians  are  so  subtle  in  paradoxes  that  they  mistake 
for  caprices  of  the  imagination  the  most  incontestable 
truths,  when  these  truths  do  not  form  a  part  of  their  daily 
existence.  For  example,  here  is  Debray  who  reads,  and 
Beauchamp  who  prints,  every  day:  'A  member  of  the 
JocKey  Club  has  been  stopped  and  robbed  on  the  boule- 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CR18TO.  461 

vard;  that  four  persons  have  been  assassinated  in  the  Rue 
St.  Denis  or  the  Faubourg  St.  Germain;  that  ten,  fifteen 
or  twenty  thieves  have  been  arrested  in  a  cafe  on  the 
Boulevard  du  Temple,  or  in  the  Thermes  de  Julien/  and 
who  yet  contest  the  existence  of  the  bandits  of  the 
Maremna,  of  the  Campagna  di  Romana,  or  the  Pontine 
Marshes.  Tell  them  yourself  that  I  was  taken  by  bandits, 
and  that  without  your  generous  intercession  I  should  now 
have  been  sleeping  in  the  catacombs  of  St.  Sebastian,  in- 
stead of  receiving  them  in  my  humble  abode  in  the  Rue  du 
Helder." 

"Ah!"  said  Monte  Oristo,  "you  promised  me  never  to 
mention  that  circuni stance. " 

"  It  was  not  I  who  made  that  promise/'  cried  Morcerf; 
"  it  must  have  been  some  one  else  whom  you  have  res- 
cued in  the  same  manner,  and  whom  you  have  forgotten. 
Pray  speak  of  it,  for  I  shall  not  only,  I  trust,  relate  the 
little  I  do  know,  but  also  a  great  deal  I  do  not  know." 

"  It  seems  to  rne,"  returned  the  count,  smiling,  "that 
you  played  a  sufficiently  important  part  to  know  as  well  as 
myself  what  happened." 

"  Well,  you  promise  me,  if  I  tell  all  I  know,  to  relate, 
in  your  turn,  all  that  I  do  not  know?" 

"  That  is  but  fair,"  replied  Monte  Cristo. 

"  Well,"  said  Morcerf,  "  for  three  days  I  believed  my- 
self the  object  of  the  attentions  of  a  mask,  whom  I  took 
for  a  descendant  of  Tullia  or  Poppoea,  while  I  was  simply 
the  object  of  the  attentions  of  a  contadine,  and  I  say  con- 
tadine  to  avoid  saying  peasant.  What  I  know  is,  that  like 
a  fool — a  greater  fool  than  he  of  whom  I  spoke  just  now — 
I  mistook  for  this  peasant  a  young  bandit  of  15  or  16,  with 
a  beardless  chin  and  slim  waist,  and  who,  just  as  I  was 
about  to  imprint  a  chaste  salute  on  his  lips,  placed  a  pistol 
to  my  head,  and,  aided  by  seven  or  eight  others,  led,  or 
rather  dragged  me,  to  the  catacombs  of  St.  Sebastian, 
where  1  found  a  highly  educated  chief  of  brigands  perus- 
ing Caesars  '  Commentaries/  and  who  deigned  to  leave  off 
reading  to  inform  me  that  unless  the  next  morning  before 
6  o'clock  4,000  piastres  were  paid  into  his  account  at  his 
banker's,  at  6:15  I  should  have  ceased  to  exist.  The  letter 
is  still  to  be  seen,  for  it  is  in  Franz  d'Epmay's  possession, 
signed  by  me,  and  with  a  postscript  of  M,  Luigi  Vampa. 
This  is  all  I  know,  but  1  know  not,  M.  le  Comte,  how  you 


462  THE  CO  UNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO. 

contrived  to  inspire  with  such  respect  the  bandits  of  Rome, 
who  have  so  little  respect  for  anything;  I  assure  you  Franz 
and  I  were  lost  in  admiration." 

"  Nothing  more  simple,"  returned  the  count.  "  I  had 
known  the  famous  Vampa  for  more  than  ten  years.  When 
he  was  quite  a  child,  and  only  a  shepherd,  I  gave  him,  for 
having  shown  me  the  way  to  a  place,  some  pieces  of  gold; 
he,  in  order  to  repay  me,  gave  me  a  poniard,  the  hilt  of 
which  he  had  carved  with  his  own  hand,  and  which  you 
may  have  seen  in  my  collection  of  arms.  In  after  years, 
whether  he  had  forgotten  this  interchange  of  presents, 
which  ought  to  have  cemented  our  friendship,  or  whether 
he  did  not  recollect  me,  he  sought  to  take  me,  but,  on  the 
contrary,  it  was  I  who  captured  him  and  a  dozen  of  his 
band.  I  might  have  handed  him  over  to  Roman  justice, 
which  is  somewhat  expeditious,  and  which  would  have 
been  still  more  so  with  him;  but  I  did  nothing  of  the  sort 
— I  suffered  him  and  his  band  to  depart." 

"  With  the  condition  that  they  should  sin  no  more," 
said  Beauchamp,  laughing.  "  I  see  they  kept  their  prom- 
ise." 

"  No,  monsieur,"  returned  Monte  Cristo,  "  upon  the 
simple  condition  that  they  should  respect  myself  and  my 
friends.  Perhaps  what  I  am  about  to  say  may  seem  strange 
to  you,  who  are  socialists,  and  vaunt  humanity  and  your 
duty  to  your  neighbor,  but  I  never  seek  to  protect  society, 
who  does  not  protect  me,  and  whom  I  will  even  say, 
in  general,  occupies  itself  about  me  only  to  injure  me,  and 
thus  giving  them  a  low  place  in  my  esteem;  and,  preserv- 
ing a  neutrality  toward  them,  it  is  society  and  my  neigh- 
bor who  are  indebted  to  me." 

"Bravo!"  cried  Chateau  Renaud;  "you  are  the  first 
man  I  ever  met  sufficiently  courageous  to  preach  egotism. 
Bravo!  M.  le  Comte,  bravo!" 

"  It  is  frank,  at  least,"  said  Morrel.  "But  I  am  sure 
that  M.  le  Comte  does  not  regret  having  once  deviated 
from  the  principles  he  has  so  boldly  avowed." 

"How  have  I  deviated  from  those  principles,  mon- 
sieur?" asked  Monte  Oristo,  who  could  not  help  looking  at 
Morrel  with  so  much  intensity  that  two  or  three  times  the 
young  man  had  been  unable  to  sustain  the  clear  and  pierc- 
ing eye  of  the  count. 

"  Why,  it  seems  to  me,"  replied  Morrel,  "  that  in  de- 


THE  CO  UNT  OF  MONTE  CRI8TO.  463 

livering  M.  de  Morcerf,  whom  you  did  not  know,  you  did 
good  to  your  neighbor  and  to  society." 

•'  Of  which  he  is  the  brightest  ornament,"  said  Beau- 
champ,  drinking  off  a  glass  of  champagne. 

"  M.  le  Comte,"  cried  Morcerf,  "  you  are  at  fault;  you, 
one  of  the  most  formidable  logicians  I  know — and  you 
must  see  it  clearly  proved,  that,  instead  of  being  an 
egotist,  you  are  a  philanthropist.  Ah!  you  call  yourself 
Oriental,  a  Levantine,  Maltese,  Indian,  Chinese;  your 
family  name  is  Monte  Cristo;  'Sinbad  the  Sailor*  is  your 
baptismal  appellation,  and  yet  the  first  day  you  set  foot  in 
Paris  you  instinctively  possess  the  greatest  virtue,  or  rather 
the  chief  defect,  of  us  eccentric  Parisians — that  is,  you  as- 
sume the  vices  you  have  not,  and  conceal  the  virtues  you 


'  My  dear  vicomte,"  returned  Monte  Cristo,  "  I  do  not 
see,  in  all  I  have  done,  anything  that  merits,  either  from 
you  or  these  gentlemen,  the  pretended  eulogies  I  have  re- 
ceived. You  are  no  stranger  to  me,  for  I  knew  since  I 
had  given  up  two  rooms  to  you — since  I  had  invited  you 
to  breakfast  with  me — since  I  had  lent  you  one  of  my  car- 
riages— since  we  had  witnessed  the  carnival  together,  and 
since  we  had  also  seen,  from  a  window  of  the  Place  del 
Popolo,  the  execution  that  affected  you  so  much  that  you 
nearly  fainted.  I  will  appeal  to  any  of  these  gentlemen — 
could  I  leave  my  guest  in  the  hands  of  a  hideous  bandit, 
as  you  term  him.  Besides,  you  know,  I  had  the  idea  that 
you  could  introduce  me  into  some  of  the  Paris  salons  when 
I  came  to  France.  You  might  some  time  ago  have  looked 
upon  this  resolution  as  a  vague  project,  but  to-day  you  see 
it  was  a  reality,  and  you  must  submit  to  it  under  penalty 
of  breaking  your  word." 

"  I  will  keep  it,"  returned  Morcerf,  but  I  fear  that  you 
will  be  much  disappointed,  accustomed  as  you  are  to  pic- 
turesque events  and  fantastic  horizons.  Among  us  you 
will  not  meet  with  any  of  thoee  episodes  with  which  your 
adventurous  existence  has  so  familiarized  you;  our  Chim- 
borazo  is  Montmartre,  our  Himalay  is  Mount  Valerien, 
our  Great  Desert  is  the  Plain  of  Grenelle,  where  they  are 
now  boring  an  artesian  well  to  water  the  caravans.  We 
have  plenty  of  thieves,  though  not  so  many  as  is  said;  but 
these  thieves  stand  in  far  more  dreud  of  a  policeman  than 
a  lord.  France  is  so  prosaic  and  Paris  so  civilized  a  city 


464  THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO. 

that  you  will  not  find  in  its  eighty-five  departments — I  say 
eighty-five,  because  I  do  not  include  Corsica — you  will 
not  find,  then,  in  these  eighty-five  departments  a  single 
hill  on  which  there  is  not  a  telegraph  or  a  grotto  in  which 
the  commissary  of  police  has  not  put  up  a  gas-lamp. 
There  is  but  one  service  1  can  render  you,  and  for 
that  I  place  myself  entirely  at  your  orders;  that  is  to 
present,  or  make  my  friends  present,  you  everywhere; 
besides,  you  have  no  need  of  any  one  to  introduce  you 
— with  your  name,  and  your  fortune,  and  your  talent " 
(Monte  Cristo  bowed,  with  a  somewhat  ironical  smile), 
"you  can  present  yourself  every  where,  and  be  well  received; 
I  can  be  useful  in  one  way  only — if  knowledge  of  Parisian 
habits,  of  the  means  of  rendering  yourself  comfortable,  or 
of  the  bazaars,  can  assist,  you  may  dispose  of  me  to  find 
you  a  fitting  dwelling  here.  I  dare  offer  to  share  rny 
apartments  with  you,  as  I  shared  yours  at  Rome — I,  who 
do  not  possess  egotism,  but  am  yet  egotistical  par  excel- 
lence; for,  except  myself,  these  rooms  would  not  contain  a 
shadow,  unless  it  were  the  shadow  of  a  female." 

"Ah,"  said  the  count,  "that  is  a  most  conjugal  reserva- 
tion; I  recollect  that  at  Home  you  said  something  of  a 
projected  marriage.  May  I  congratulate  you?" 

"The  affair  is  still  in  projection." 

"And  he  who  says  in  'projection,'  means  already  de- 
cided," said  Debray. 

"  No,"  replied  Morcerf,  "my  father  is  most  anxious 
about  it;  and  I  hope,  ere  long,  to  introduce  you,  if  not  to 
my  wife,  at  least  to  my  intended — Mdlle.  Eugenie  Dang- 
lars." 

"Eugenie  Danglars!"  said  Monte  Cristo;  "tell  me,  is  not 
her  father  M.  le  Baron  Danglars?" 

"Yes,"  returned  Morcerf;  "a  baron  of  a  new  crea- 
tion." 

"What  matter,"  said  Monte  Cristo,  "if  he  has  rendered 
the  state  services  which  merit  this  distinction?" 

"Enormous  ones,"  answered  Beauchamp.  "Although 
in  reality  a  liberal,  he  negotiated  a  loan  of  6,000,000  francs 
(£240,000)  for  Charles  X,  in  1829,  who  made  him  a  baron 
and  chevalier  de  la  Legion  d'Honneur;  so  that  he  wears 
the  ribbon,  not,  as  you  would  think,  in  his  waistcoat- 
pocket,  but  at  his  button-hole." 

"Ah!"    interrupted    Morcerf,    laughing,  "Beauchamp, 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRI8TO.  465 

Beauchamp,  keep  that  for  the  charivari,  but  spare  my 
future  father-in-law  before  me."  Then  turning  to  Monte 
Cristo,  "you  just  now  pronounced  his  name  as  if  you 
knew  the  baron  ?" 

"I  do  not  know  him,"  returned  Monte  Cristo;  "but  I 
shall  probably  soon  make  his  acquaintance,  for  I  have  a 
credit  opened  with  him  by  the  house  of  Richard  &  Blount, 
of  London,  Arsteiu  &  Eskeles,  of  Vienna,  and  Thomson 
&  French  at  Rome."  As  he  pronounced  the  two  last 
names,  the  count  glanced  at  Muximillian  Morrel.  If  the 
stranger  expected  to  produce  an  effect  on  Morrel,  he  was 
not  mistaken — Maxirnillian  started  as  if  he  had  been  elec 
trifled. 

"Thomson  &  French!"  said  he,  "do  you  know  this 
house,  monsieur?" 

"They  are  my  bankers  in  the  capital  of  the  Christian 
world,"  returned  the  count  quietly.  "Can  my  influence 
with  them  be  of  any  service  to  you  ?" 

"Oh,  M.  le  Comte,  you  could  assist  me  perhaps  in  re- 
searches which  have  been,  up  to  the  present,  fruitless. 
This  house,  in  past  years,  did  ours  a  great  service,  and  has, 
I  know  not  for  what  reason,  always  denied  having  rendered 
us  this  service." 

"I  shall  be  at  your  orders,"  said  Monte  Cristo,  inclining 
himself. 

"But,"  continued  Morcerf,  "apropos  of  Danglars — we 
have  strangely  wandered  from  the  subject.  We  were 
speaking  of  a  suitable  habitation  for  the  Count  of  Monte 
Cristo.  Come,  gentlemen,  let  us  all  propose  some  place; 
where  shall  we  lodge  this  new  guest  in  our  great  capital?" 

"Faubourg  Saint-Germain,"  said  Chdteau  Renaud.  "The 
count  will  find  there  a  charming  hotel,  with  a  court  and 
garden." 

"Bali!  Ch&teau  Renaud,"  returned  Debray,  "you  only 
know  your  dull  and  gloomy  Faubourg  Saint- Germain;  do 
not  pay  any  attention  to  him,  M.  le  Comte — live  in  the 
Chaussee  d'Antin,  that's  the  real  center  of  Paris." 

"Bouvelard  de  1'Opera,"  said  Beauchamp;  "on  the  first 
floor — a  house  with  a  balcony.  M.  le  Comte  will  have  his 
cushions  of  silver  cloth  brought  there,  and  as  he  smokes  his 
chibouque,  see  all  Paris  pass  before  him." 

"You  have  no  idea,  then,  Morrel?'  asked  Ch&teau 
Renaud;  "you  do  not  propose  anything." 


466  THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO. 

"Oh,  yes,"  returned  the  young  man,  smiling;  "on  the 
contrary,  I  have  one;  but  I  expected  the  count  would  be 
tempted  by  one  of  the  brilliant  proposals  made  him;  yet 
as  he  has  not  replied  to  any  of  them,  I  will  venture  to 
offer  him  a  suite  of  apartments  in  a  charming  hotel,  in  the 
Pompadour  style,  that  my  sister  has  inhabited  for  a  year, 
in  the  Rue  Meslay  " 

"You  have  a  sister,"  asked  the  count. 

"Yes,  monsieur,  a  most  excellent  sister/' 

"Married?" 

" Nearly  nine  years." 

"Happy?"  asked  the  count  again. 

"As  happy  as  it  is  permitted  to  a  human  creature  to 
be,"  replied  Maximillian.  "She  married  the  man  she 
loved,  who  remained  faithful  to  us  in  our  fallen  fortunes — 
Emmanuel  Herbaut."  Monte  Cristo  smiled  imperceptibly. 
"I  live  there  during  my  leave  of  absense,"  continued  Max- 
imillian; "and  I  shall  be,  together  with  my  brother-in- 
law  Emmanuel,  at  the  disposition  of  M.  le  Comte,  when- 
ever he  thinks  fit  to  honor  us." 

"One  minute!"  cried  Albert,  without  giving  Monte 
Cristo  the  time  to  reply.  "Take  care,  you  are  going  to 
immure  a  traveler,  'Sinbad  the  Sailor/  a  man  who  comes  to 
see  Paris;  you  are  going  to  make  a  patriarch  of  him." 

"Oh,  no,"  said  Morrel;  my  sister  is  25  years  old,  my 
brother-in-law  is  30;  they  are  gay,  young  and  happy; 
besides,  M.  le  Comte  will  be  in  his  own  house,  and  only 
see  them  when  he  thinks  fit  to  do  so." 

"Thanks,  monsieur,"  said  Monte  Cristo,  "I  shall  con- 
tent myself  with  being  presented  to  your  sister  and  her 
husband,  if  you  will  do  me  the  honor  to  introduce  me; 
but  I  cannot  accept  the  offer  of  any  one  of  these  gentle- 
men, since  my  habitation  is  already  prepared." 

"What!"  cried  Morcerf ;  "you  are,  then,  going  to  an 
hotel— that  will  be  very  dull  for  you." 

"Was  I  so  badly  lodged  at  Rome?"  said  Monte  Cristo 
smiling. 

"ParUeu  ! — at  Rome  you  spent  50,000  piastres  in  furn- 
ishing your  apartments,  but  I  presume  that  you  are  not 
disposed  to  spend  a  similar  sum  every  day." 

"It  is  not  that  which  deterred  me,"  replied  Monte 
Cristo;  "but  as  I  determined  to  have  a  house  to  myself,  I 
sent  on  my  valet-de-chambre,  and  he  ought,  by  this  time, 
to  have  bought  the  house  and  furnished  it." 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRI8TO.  467 

"  But  you  have,  then,  a  valet-de-chambre  who  knows 
Paris?"  said  Beau  champ. 

"It  is  the  first  time  he  has  ever  been  in  Paris.  He  is 
black,  and  cannot  speak/'  returned  Monte  Cristo. 

"It  is  Ali!"  cried  Albert,  in  the  midst  of  the  general 
surprise. 

"  Yes,  Ali  himself,  my  Nubian  mute,  whom  you  saw,  I 
think,  at  Rome." 

"Certainly,"  said  Morcerf;  "I  recollect  him  perfectly. 
But  how  could  you  charge  a  Nubian  to  purchase  a  house, 
and  a  mute  to  furnish  it— he  will  do  everything  wrong." 

"Undeceive  yourself,  monsieur,"  replied  Monte  Cristo; 
"I  am  quite  sure,  that,  on  the  contrary  he  will  choose 
everything  as  I  wish.  He  knows  my  tastes,  my  caprices, 
my  wants;  he  has  been  here  a  week,  with  the  instinct  of  a 
hound,  hunting  by  himself;  he  will  organize  overything 
for  me.  He  knew  I  should  arrive  to  day  at  10  o'clock; 
since  9  o'clock  he  awaited  me  at  the  Barriere  de  Fontain- 
bleau.  He  gave  me  this  paper;  it  contains  the  number  of 
my  new  abode;  read  it  yourself,"  and  Monte  Cristo  passed 
a  paper  to  Albert. 

"Ah,  that  is  really  original,"  said  Beauchamp. 

"And  very  princely,"  added  Chateau  Renaud. 

"What!  do  you  not  know  your  house?"  asked  Debray. 

"No,"  said  Monte  Cristo;  "I  told  you  I  did  not  wish 
to  be  behind  my  time;  I  dressed  myself  in  the  carriage, 
and  desended  at  the  vicomte's  door." 

The  young  men  looked  at  each  other;  they  did  not  know 
if  it  was  a  comedy  Monte  Cristo  was  playing ;  but  every 
word  he  uttered  had  such  an  air  of  simplicity,  that  it 
was  impossible  to  suppose  what  he  said  was  false;  besides, 
why  should  he  tell  a  falsehood  ?  "We  must  content  our- 
selves, then,"  said  Beauchamp,  "  with  rendering  M.  le 
(,'omte  all  the  little  services  in  our  power.  I,  in  my  quality 
of  journalist,  open  all  the  theaters  to  him." 

"Thanks,  monsieur,"  returned  Monte  Cristo,  "my 
steward  has  orders  to  take  a  box  at  each  theater." 

"  IB  your  steward  also  a  Nubian  ?"  asked  Debray. 

"  No,  he  is  a  countryman  of  yours,  if  a  Corsican  is  a 
countryman  of  anyone's.  But  you  know  him,  M.  de  Mor- 
cerf. " 

"Is  it  that  excellent  M.  Bertuccio,  who  understands  hir- 
ing windows  so  well  ?" 


468  THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO. 

"  Yes,  you  saw  him  the  day  I  had  the  honor  of  receiv- 
ing you;  he  has  been  a  soldier,  a  smuggler — in  fact,  every- 
thing. I  would  not  be  quite  sure  that  he  has  not  been 
mixed  up  with  the  police  for  some  trifle — a  stab  with  a 
knife,  for  instance/' 

"  And  you  have  chosen  this  honest  citizen  for  your 
steward,"  said  Debray.  "  Of  how  much  does  he  rob  you 
every  year  ?" 

"  On  my  word,"  replied  the  Count,  "  not  more  than  an- 
other. I  am  sure  he  answers  my  purpose,  knows  no  im- 
possibility, and  so  I  keep  him." 

"  Then,"  continued  Chateau  Eenaud,  "  since  you  have 
an  establishment,  a  steward,  and  an  hotel  in  the  Champs 
Elysees,  you  only  want  a  mistress." 

Albert  smiled.  He  thought  of  the  fair  Greek  he  had  seen 
in  the  count's  box  at  the  Argentina  and  Valle  theaters. 

"  I  have  something  better  than  that,"  said  Monte  Cristo; 
"  I  have  a  slave.  You  procure  your  mistresses  from  the 
Opera,  the  Vaudeville,  or  the  Varietes;  I  purchased  mine 
at  Constantinople;  it  cost  me  more,  but  I  have  nothing  to 
fear." 

"  But  you  forget,"  replied  Debray,  laughing,  "  that  we 
are  Franks  by  name  and  franks  by  nature,  as  King  Charles 
said;  and  that  the  moment  she  put  her  foot  in  France  your 
slave  becomes  free." 

"  Who  will  tell  her  ?" 

"The  first  person  who  sees  her." 

"  She  only  speaks  Komaic." 

"That  is  different." 

"  But  at  least  we  shall  see  her,"  said  Beauchamp,  "  or 
do  you  keep  eunuchs  as  well  as  mutes  ?" 

"Oh,  no,"  replied  Monte  Cristo;  "I  do  not  carry 
brutalism  so  far.  Every  one  who  surrounds  me  is  free  to 
quit  me,  and  when  they  leave  me  will  no  longer  have  any 
need  of  me  or  any  one  else;  it  is  for  that  reason,  perhaps, 
that  they  do  not  quit  me."  They  had  long  since  passed  to 
dessert  and  cigars. 

"  My  dear  "Albert,"  said  Debray,  rising,  "  it  is  2:30. 
Your  guest  is  charming;  but  you  leave  the  best  company 
to  go  into  the  worst  sometimes.  I  must  return  to  the 
minister's.  I  will  tell  him  of  the  count,  and  we  shall  soon 
know  who  he  is." 

"  Take  care,"  return  Albert;  "  no  one  has  been  able  to 
accomplish  that." 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTR  CRISTO.  469 

"  Oh,  we  have  3,000,000  for  our  police;  it  is  true  they 
are  almost  always  spent  beforehand;  but,  no  matter,  we 
t^hall  still  have  50,000  francs  to  spend  for  this  purpose/' 

"  And  when  you  know,  will  you  tell  me  ?" 

"  I  promise  you.  Au  revoir,  Albert.  Gentlemen,  good 
morning." 

As  he  left  the  room,  Debray  called  out  loudly:  "My 
carriage." 

"Bravo  I"  said  Beauchamp  to  Albert;  "  I  shall  not  go 
to  the  chamber,  but  I  have  something  better  to  offer  my 
readers  than  a  speech  of  M.  Danglars." 

"  For  heaven's  sake,  Beauchamp/'  returned  Morcerf, 
"do  not  deprive  me  of  the  merit  of  introducing  him 
everywhere.  Is  he  not  peculiar  ?" 

"  He  is  more  than  that,"  replied  Chateau  Renaud;  "he 
is  one  of  the  mosi  extraordinary  men  I  ever  saw  in  my  life. 
Are  you  coming,  Morrel  ?" 

"  Directly  I  have  given  my  card  to  M.  le  Comte,  who 
has  promised  to  pay  us  a  visit  at  Rue  Meslay,  No.  14." 

"  Be  sure  I  shall  not  fail  to  do  so,"  returned  the  count, 
bowing.  And  Maximilian  Morrel  left  the  room  with  the 
Baron  de  Chateau  Renaud,  leaving  Monte  Cristo  alone 
with  Morcerf. 


CHAPTER  XLI. 

THE   PRESENTATION. 

WHEN  Albert  found  himself  alone  with  Monte  Cristo, 
"M.  le  Comte,"  said  he,  "allow  me  to  commence  niy 
ciceroneship  by  showing  you  a  specimen  of  a  bachelor's 
apartment.  You,  who  are  accustomed  to  the  palaces  of 
Italy,  can  amuse  yourself  by  calculating  in  how  many 
square  feet  a  young  man  who  is  not  the  worst  lodged  in 
Paris  can  live.  As  we  pass  from  one  room  to  another,  I 
will  open  the  windows  to  let  you  breathe.  " 

Monte  Cristo  had  already  seen  the  breakfast-room  and 
the  salon  on  the  ground-floor.  Albert  led  him  first  to  his 
atelier,  which  was,  as  we  have  said,  his  favorite  apartment. 
Monte  Cristo  was  a  worthy  appreciator  of  all  that  Albert 
had  collected  here — old  cabinets,  Japan  porcelain,  Oriental 
stuffs,  Venice  glass,  arms  from  all  parts  of  the  world — 
everything  was  familiar  to  him;  and  at  the  first  glance  he 


470  THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO. 

recognized  their  date,  their  country,  and  their  origin. 
Morcerf  had  expected  he  should  be  the  guide;  on  the  con- 
trary, it  was  he  who,  under  the  count's  guidance,  followed 
a  course  of  archaeology,  mineralogy,  and  natural  history. 
They  descended  to  the  first  floor;  Albert  led  his  guest  into 
the  salon.  The  salon  was  filled  with  the  works  of  modern 
artists;  there  were  landscapes  by  Dupre,  with  their  long 
reeds  and  tall  trees,  their  long  oxen  and  marvelous  skies; 
Delacroix's  Arabian  cavaliers,  with  their  long  white  burn- 
ous, their  shining  belts,  their  damasked  arms,  their  horses, 
who  tore  each  other  with  their  teeth  while  their  riders 
contended  fiercely  with  their  maces;  aquarelles  of  Bou- 
langer,  representing  Notre  Dame  de  Paris  with  that  vigour 
that  makes  the  artist  the  rival  of  the  poet ;  there  were 
paintings  by  Dias,  who  makes  his  flowers  more  beautiful 
than  flowers,  his  suns  more  brilliant  than  the  sun;  design, 
by  Decamp,  as  vividly  colored  as  those  of  Salvator  Rosa- 
but  more  poetic;  pastels  by  G-iraud  and  Muller,  represents 
ing  children  like  angels,  and  women  with  the  features  of  a 
vigin;  sketches  torn  from  the  album  of  Dauzats'  "Travels 
in  the  East,"  that  had  been  made  in  a  few  seconds  on  the 
saddle  of  a  camel,  or  beneath  the  dome  of  a  mosque;  in  a 
word,  all  that  modern  art  can  give  in  exchange  and  as  re- 
compense for  the  art  lost  and  gone  with  ages  long  since 
past. 

Albert  expected  to  have  something  new  this  time  to 
show  to  the  traveler,  but,  to  his  great  surprise,  the  latter, 
without  seeking  for  the  signatures,  many  of  which,  indeed, 
were  only  initials,  named  instantly  the  author  of  every 
picture  in  such  a  manner  that  it  was  easy  to  see  that  each 
name  was  not  only  known  to  him,  but  that  each  of  their 
styles  had  been  appreciated  and  studied  by  him. 
From  the  salon  they  passed  into  the  bed-chamber;  it 
was  a  model  of  taste  and  simple  elegance  A  single 
portrait,  signed  Leopold  Robert,  shone  in  its  carved 
an  gilded  frame.  This  portrait  attracted  the  Count 
of  Monte  Cristo's  attention,  for  he  made  three  rapid 
steps  in  the  chamber  and  stopped  suddenly  before  it.  It 
was  the  portrait  of  a  young  woman  of  25  or  26  years 
old,  with  a  dark  complexion  and  light  and  lustrous 
eyes,  veiled  beneath  their  long  lashes.  She  wore  the  pic- 
turesque costume  of  the  Catalan  fisherwoman,  a  red  and 
black  bodice  and  the  golden  pins  in  her  hair.  She  was 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRI8TO.  471 

looking  at  the  sea  and  her  shadow  was  defined  on  the  blue 
ocean  and  sky.  The  light  was  so  faint  in  the  room  that 
Albert  did  not  perceive  the  paleness  that  spread  itself  over 
the  count's  visage,  or  the  nervous  heaving  of  his  chest  and 
shoulders.  Silence  prevailed  for  an  instant,  during  which 
Monte  Cristo  gazed  intently  on  the  picture. 

"  You  have  there  a  most  charming  mistress,  viscount," 
said  the  count,  in  a  perfectly  calm  tone;  "  and  this  cos- 
tume— a  ball  costume,  doubtless — becomes  her  admirably/' 

"  Ah,  monsieur!"  returned  Albert,  "  I  would  never  for- 
give you  this  mistake  if  you  had  seen  another  picture' 
besides  this.  You  do  not  know  my  mother;  she  it  is 
whom  you  see  here;  she  had  her  portrait  painted  thus  six 
or  eight  years  ago.  This  costume  is  a  fancy  one,  it 
appears,  and  the  resemblance  is  so  great  that  I  think  I  still 
see  my  mother  the  same  as  she  was  in  1830.  The  countess 
had  this  portrait  painted  during  the  count's  absence.  She, 
doubtless,  intended  giving  him  an  agreeable  surprise;  but, 
strange  to  say,  this  portrait  seemed  to  displease  my  father, 
and  the  value  of  the  picture,  which  is,  as  you  see,  one  of 
the  best  works  of  Leopold  Robert,  could  not  overcome  his 
dislike  to  it.  It  is  true,  between  ourselves,  that  M.  de 
Morcerf  is  one  of  the  most  assiduous  peers  at  the  Luxem- 
bourg, a  general  renowned  for  theory,  but  a  most  mediocre 
amateur  of  art.  It  is  different  with  my  mother,  who 
paints  exceedingly  well,  and  who,  unwilling  to  part  with 
so  valuable  a  picture,  gave  it  to  me  to  put  here,  where  it 
would  be  less  likely  to  displease  M.  de  Morcerf,  whose  por- 
trait, by  Gros,  I  will  also  show  you.  Excuse  my  talking  of 
family  matters;  but,  as  I  shall  have  the  honor  of  introduc- 
ing you  to  the  count,  I  tell  you  this  to  prevent  you  making 
any  allusions  to  this  picture.  The  picture  seems  to  have  a 
malign  influence,  for  my  mother  rarely  comes  here  without 
looking  at  it,  and  still  more  rarely  does  she  look  at  it  with- 
out weeping.  This  disagreement  is  the  only  one  that  has 
ever  taken  place  between  the  count  and  countess,  who  are 
still  as  much  united,  although  married  more  than  twenty 
years,  as  the  first  day  of  their  wedding." 

Monte  Cristo  glanced  rapidly  at  Albert,  as  if  to  seek  a 
hidden  meaning  in  his  words;  but  it  was  evident  the  young 
man  uttered  them  in  the  simplicity  of  his  heart.  "  Now," 
said  Albert,  "  that  you  have  seen  all  my  treasures, 
allow  me  to  offer  them  to  you,  unworthy  as  they  are.  Con- 


472  THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO. 

sider  yourself  as  in  3' our  own  house;  and  to  put  yourself 
still  more  at  your  ease,  pray  accompany  me  to  the  apart- 
ments of  M.  de  Morcerf,  to  whom  I  wrote  from  Rome  an 
account  of  the  services  you  rendered  me,  and  to  whom  I 
announced  your  promised  visit,  and  I  may  say  that  both 
the  count  and  countess  anxiously  desire  to  thank  you  in 
person.  You  are  somewhat  blase  I  know,  and  family 
scenes  have  not  much  effect  on  '  Sinbad  the  Sailor/  who 
has  seen  so  many  others.  However,  accept  what  I  propose 
to  you  as  an  initiation  into  Parisian  life — a  life  of  polite- 
ness, visiting  and  introductions/'  Monte  Cristo  bowed 
without  making  any  answer;  he  accepted  the  offer  without 
enthusiasm  and  without  regret,  as  one  of  those  conventions 
of  society  which  every  gentleman  looks  upon  as  a  duty. 
Albert  summoned  his  servant  and  ordered  him  to  acquaint 
M.  and  Mme.  de  Morcerf  of  the  arrival  of  the  Count  of 
Monte  Cristo.  Albert  followed  him  with  the  count. 
When  they  arrived  at  the  ante-chamber,  above  the  door  was 
visible  a  shield,  which,  by  its  rich  ornaments  and  its  har- 
mony with  the  rest  of  the  furniture,  indicated  the  impor- 
tance the  owner  attached  to  his  blazon.  Monte  Cristo 
stopped  and  examined  it  attentively. 

"Azure  seven  merlets,  or,  placed  bender,"  said  he. 
"  These  are,  doubtless,  your  family  arms?  Except  the 
knowledge  of  blazons,  that  enables  me  to  decipher  them,  I 
am  very  ignorant  of  heraldry — I,  a  count  of  a  fresh  crea- 
tion, fabricated  in  Tuscany  by  the  aid  of  a  commandery  of 
St.  Stephen  and  who  would  not  have  taken  the  trouble  had 
I  not  been  told  that  when  you  travel  much  it  is  necessary. 
Besides,  you  must  have  something  on  the  panels  of  your 
carriage,  to  escape  being  searched  by  the  custom-house 
officers.  Excuse  my  putting  such  a  question  to  you." 

"  It  is  not  indiscreet,"  returned  Morcerf,  with  the  sim- 
plicity of  conviction.  "  You  have  guessed  rightly. 
These  are  our  arms;  that  is,  those  of  my  father;  but  they 
are,  as  you  see,  joined  to  another  shield,  which  has  gules, 
a  silver  tower,  which  are  my  mother's.  By  her  side  I  am 
Spanish,  but  the  family  of  Morcerf  is  French,  and,  I  have 
heard,  one  of  the  oldest  of  the  south  of  France." 

"  Yes,"  replied  Monte  Cristo,  "  these  blazons  prove  that; 
almost  all  the  armed  pilgrims  that  went  to  the  Holy  Land 
took  for  their  arms  either  a  cross,  in  honor  of  their 
mission,  or  birds  of  passage,  in  sign  of  the  long  voyage 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRI8TO.  473 

they  were  about  to  undertake  and  which  they  hoped  to  ac- 
complish on  the  wings  of  faith.  One  of  your  ancestors 
had  joined  the  Crusades;  and,  supposing  it  to  be  only  that 
of  St.  Louis,  that  makes  you  mount  to  the  thirteenth 
century,  which  is  tolerably  ancient." 

"  Is  that  possible, "  said  Morcerf;  "  my  father  has  in  his 
study  a  genealogical  tree  which  will  tell  you  all  that,  and 
on  which  I  made  commentaries  that  would  have  greatly 
edified  Hozier  and  Jaucourt.  At  present  I  no  longer  think 
of  it;  and  yet  I  must  tell  you  that  we  are  beginning  to  oc- 
cupy ourselves  greatly  with  these  things  under  our  popular 
government." 

"  Well,  then,  your  government  would  do  well  to  choose 
from  the  past  something  better  than  the  things  that  I  have 
noticed  on  your  monuments  and  which  have  no  heraldic 
meaning  whatever.  As  for  you,  viscount,"  continued 
Monte  Uristo  to  Morcerf,  "  you  are  more  fortunate  than  the 
government,  for  your  arms  are  really  beautiful  and  speak 
to  the  imagination.  Yes,  you  are  at  once  from  Provence 
and  Spain;  that  explains,  if  the  portrait  you  showed  me 
be  like  the  dark  hue  I  so  much  admired  on  the  visage  of 
the  noble  Catalan."  It  would  have  required  the  penetra- 
tion of  CEdipus  or  the  Sphinx  to  have  divined  the  irony 
the  count  concealed  beneath  these  words,  apparently 
uttered  with  the  greatest  politeness.  Morcerf  thanked  him 
with  a  smile  and  pushed  open  the  door  above  which  were 
his  arms,  and  which,  as  we  have  said,  opened  into  the 
salon.  In  the  most  conspicuous  part  of  the  salon  was 
another  portrait.  It  was  that  of  a  man,  from  35  to  38  years 
of  age,  in  the  uniform  of  a  general  officer  wearing  the 
double  epaulet  en  torsade,  that  indicates  superior  rank;  the 
ribbon  of  the  Legion  of  Honor  round  his  neck,  which 
showed  he  was  a  commander;  and  on  the  breast,  on  the 
right,  the  star  of  the  grand  officer  of  the  order  of  the 
Savior  and  on  the  left  that  of  the  grand  cross  of  Charles 
III,  which  proved  that  the  person  represented  by  the 
picture  had  served  in  the  wars  of  Greece  and  Spain;  or, 
what  was  just  the  same  thing  as  regarded  decorations,  had 
fulfilled  some  diplomatic  mission  in  the  two  countries. 

Monte  Cristo  was  engaged  in  examining  this  portrait 
with  no  less  care  than  he  had  bestowed  upon  the  other, 
when  another  door  opened  and  he  found  himself  opposite 
to  the  Comte  de  Morcerf.  He  was  a  man  of  40  to  45 


474  THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  GRI8TO. 

years,  but  he  seemed  at  least  50  and  his  black  mustache 
and  eyebrows  contrasted  strangely  with  his  almost  white 
hair,  which  was  cut  short,  in  the  military  fashion.  He 
was  dressed  in  plain  clothes  and  wore  at  his  button-hole 
the  ribbons  of  the  different  orders  to  which  he  belonged. 
This  man  entered  with  a  tolerably  dignified  step  and  with 
a  species  of  haste.  Monte  Cristo  saw  him  advance  toward 
him  without  making  a  single  step.  It  seemed  as  if  his  feet 
were  rooted  to  the  ground  and  his  eyes  on  the  Comte  de 
Morcerf. 

"Father,"  said  the  young  man,  "I  have  the  honor  of 
presenting  to  you  M.  le  'Comte  de  Monte  Cristo,  the  gen- 
erous friend  whom  I  had  the  good  fortune  to  meet  in  the 
critical  juncture  of  which  I  have  told  you." 

"  You  are  most  welcome,  monsieur,"  said  the  Comte  de 
Morcerf,  saluting  Monte  Cristo  with  a  smile;  "and  mon- 
sieur has  rendered  our  house,  in  preserving  its  only  heir,  a 
service  which  insures  him  our  eternal  gratitude." 

As  he  said  these  words  the  Comte  de  Morcerf  pointed  to 
a  chair,  while  he  seated  himself  in  another  opposite  the 
window. 

Monte  Cristo,  while  he  took  the  seat  Morcerf  offered 
him,  placed  himself  in  such  a  manner  as  to  remain  con- 
cealed in  the  shadow  of  the  large  velvet  curtains,  and  read 
on  the  care-worn  and  livid  features  of  the  count  a  whole 
history  of  secret  griefs  written  in  each  wrinkle  time  had 
planted  there. 

"  Mme.  la  Vicomtesse,"  said  Morcerf,  "  was  at  her 
toilette  when  she  was  informed  of  the  visit  she  was  about 
to  receive.  She  would,  however,  be  in  the  salon  in  ten 
minutes." 

"It  is  a  great  honor  for  me,"  returned  Monte  Cristo, 
"  to  be  thus,  on  the  first  day  of  my  arrival  in  Paris, 
brought  in  contact  with  a  man  whose  merit  equals  his 
reputation,  and  to  whom  fortune  has  for  once  been 
equitable;  but  has  she  not  still  on  the  plains  of  Mitidja, 
or  in  the  mountains  of  Atlas,  a  marshal's  staff  to  offer 
you?" 

"  Oh,"  replied  Morcerf,  reddening  slightly,  "  I  have  left 
the  service,  monsieur.  Made  a  peer  at  the  Restoration,  I 
served  through  the  first  campaign  under  the  orders  of 
Marshal  Bourmont.  I  could,  therefore,  expect  a  higher 
rank,  and  who  knows  what  might  have  happened  had  the 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO.  475 

elder  branch  remained  on  the  throne?  But  the  Revolution 
of  July  was,  it  seems,  sufficiently  glorious  to  allow  itself  to 
be  ungrateful;  and  it  was  so  for  all  services  that  did  not 
date  from  the  imperial  period.  I  tendered  my  resigna- 
tion;  for  when  you  have  gained  your  epaulets  on  the 
battle-field,  you  do  not  know  how  to  maneuver  on  the 
slippery  ground  of  the  salons.  I  have  hung  up  my  sword 
and  cast  myself  into  politics.  I  have  devoted  myself  to 
industry;  I  study  the  usual  arts.  During  the  twenty  years 
I  served,  I  often  wished  to  do  so,  but  I  had  not  the  time." 

"  These  are  the  ideas  that  render  your  nation  superior 
to  any  other/'  returned  Monte  Cristo.  "A  gentleman  of  high 
birth,  possessor  of  an  ample  fortune,  you  have  consented 
to  gain  your  promotion  as  an  obscure  soldier,  step  by  step 
— this  is  uncommon;  then  become  general,  peer  of  France, 
commander  of  the  Legion  of  Honor,  you  consent  to  again 
commence  a  second  apprenticeship,  without  any  other 
hope  or  any  desire  than  that  of  one  day  becoming  useful 
to  your  fellow-creatures;  this,  indeed,  is  praiseworthy — 
nay,  more,  it  is  sublime." 

Albert  looked  on  and  listened  with  astonishment;  he 
was  not  used  to  see  Monte  Cristo  give  vent  to  such  bursts 
of  enthusiasm. 

"Alas!"  continued  the  stranger,  doubtless  to  dispel  the 
slight  cloud  that  covered  Morcerf  s  brow,  "  we  do  not  act 
thus  in  Italy;  we  grow  according  to  our  race  and  our 
species,  and  we  pursue  the  same  lines,  and  often  the  same 
uselessness  all  our  lives." 

"But,  monsieur,"  said  the  Comte  de  Morcerf,  "for  a 
man  of  your  merit,  Italy  is  not  a  country,  and  France 
opens  her  arms  to  receive  you;  respond  to  her  call.  France 
will  not,  perhaps,  be  always  ungrateful!  She  treats  her 
children  ill,  but  she  always  welcomes  strangers." 

"Ah,  father!"  said  Albert,  with  a  smile,  "  it  is  evident 
you  do  not  know  M.  le  Comte  de  Monte  Cristo;  he  de- 
spises all  honors  and  contents  himself  with  those  that  are 
written  on  his  passport." 

"  That  is  the  most  just  remark,"  replied  the  stranger, 
"  I  ever  heard  concerning  myself  !" 

"  You  have  been  free  to  choose  your  career,"  observed 
the  Comte  de  Morcerf,  with  a  sigh,  "  and  you  have  chosen 
the  path  strewn  with  flowers." 

"Precisely,  monsieur,"  replied  Monte  Cristo,  with  one 


476  TEE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO. 

of  those  smiles  that  a  painter  could  never  represent  or  a 
physiologist  analyze. 

"  If  I  did  not  fear  to  fatigue  you/'  said  the  general, 
evidently  charmed  with  the  count's  manners,  "  I  would 
have  taken  you  to  the  chamber;  there  is  a  debate  very 
curious  to  those  who  are  strangers  to  our  modern  senators." 

"  I  shall  be  most  grateful,  monsieur,  if  you  will,  at  some 
future  time,  renew  your  offer;  but  I  have  been  flattered 
with  the  hope  of  being  introduced  to  the.  countess,  and  I 
will  therefore  wait." 

"Ah!  here  is  my  mother,"  cried  the  viscount. 

Monte  Cristo  turned  round  hastily,  and  saw  Mme.  de  Mor- 
cerf  at  the  entrance  of  the  salon,  at  the  door  opposite  to 
that  by  which  her  husband  had  entered,  pale  and  motion- 
less; when  Monte  Cristo  turned  round  she  let  fall  her  arm 
which  for  some  unknown  reason  had  been  resting  on  the 
the  gilded  door-post.  She  had  been  there  some  moments 
and  had  overheard  the  last  words  of  the  visitor.  The 
latter  rose  and  bowed  to  the  countess  who  inclined  herself 
without  speaking. 

"Ah!  good  heavens,  madame!"  said  the  count,  "  are  you 
unwell  or  is  it  the  heat  of  the  room  that  affects  you  ?"  " 

"Are  you  ill,  mother?"  cried  the  viscount,  springing 
toward  her. 

She  thanked  them  both  with  a  smile. 

"  No,"  returned  she,  "  but  I  feel  some  emotion  on  seeing 
for  the  first  time,  the  man  without  whose  intervention 
we  should  have  been  in  tears  and  desolation.  Monsieur," 
continued  the  countess,  advancing  with  the  majesty  of 
a  queen,  "  I  owe  to  you  the  life  of  my  son  and  for  this 
I  bless  you.  Now  I  thank  you  for  the  pleasure  you  give 
me  in  thus  affording  me  the  opportunity  of  thanking  you 
as  I  have  blessed  you,  from  the  bottom  of  my  heart." 

The  count  bowed  again,  but  lower  than  before;  he  was 
even  paler  than  Mercedes. 

"  Madame,"  said  he,  "  M.  le  Comte  and  youiself  re- 
compense too  generously  a  simple  action.  To  save  a  man, 
to  spare  a  father's  feelings,  or  a  mother's  sensibility,  is  not 
to  do  a  good  action,  but  a  simple  deed  of  humanity." 

At  these  words,  uttered  with  the  most  exquisite  sweet- 
ness and  politeness,  Mme.  de  Morcerf  replied: 

"It  is  very  fortunate  for  my  son,  monsieur,  that  he 
found  such  a  friend,  and  1  thank  God  that  things  are 
thus." 


1HE  COUNT  OF  MOXTE  CRI8TO.  477 

And  Mercedes  raised  her  fine  eyes  to  heaven  with  so  fervent 
an  expression  of  gratitude,  that  the  count  fancied  he  saw 
tears  in  them.  M.  de  Morcerf  appoached  her. 

"  Madame,"  said  he,  "  I  have  already  made  my  excuses 
to  M.  le  Comte  for  quitting  him,  and  I  pray  you  do  so 
also.  The  sitting  commencing  at  2  o'clock;  it  is  now  3, 
and  I  am  to  speak." 

"  Go,  then,  and  monsieur  and  I  will  strive  our  best  to 
forget  your  absence!"  replied  the  countess  with  the  same 
tone  of  deep  feeling.  "M.  le  Comte,"  continued  she, 
turning  to  Monte  Cristo,  "  will  you  do  us  the  honor  of 
passing  the  rest  of  the  day  with  us?" 

"  Believe  me,  madame,  I  feel  most  grateful  for  your  kind- 
ness, but  I  got  out  of  my  traveling-carriage  at  your  door 
this  morning,  and  I  am  ignorant  now  I  am  installed  in 
Paris,  which  I  scarcely  know;  this  is  but  a  trifling  in- 
quietude, I  know,  but  one  that  may  be  appreciated." 

"  We  shall  have  this  pleasure  another  time!"  said  the 
countess;  "you  promise  that?" 

Monte  Cristo  inclined  himself  without  answering;  but 
the  gesture  might  pass  for  an  assent. 

"I  will  not  detain  you,  monsieur,"  continued  the 
countess;  "  I  would  not  have  our  gratitude  become  indis- 
creet or  importunate." 

"  My  dear  count,"  said  Albert,  "  I  will  endeavor  to  re- 
turn your  politeness  at  Rome,  and  place  my  coupe  at  your 
disposal  until  your  own  be  ready." 

"A  thousand  thanks  for  your  kindness,  viscount,"  re- 
turned the  Count  of  Monte  Cristo;  "  but  1  suppose  that  M. 
Bertuccio  has  suitably  employed  the  four  hours  and  a  half 
I  have  given  him,  and  that  I  shall  find  a  carriage  of  some 
sort  ready  at  the  door." 

Albert  was  used  to  the  count's  manner  of  proceeding;  he 
knew  that,  like  Nero,  he  was  in  search  of  the  impossible, 
and  nothing  astonished  him  ;  only  wishing  to  judge  with 
his  own  eyes  how  far  the  count's  orders  had  been  executed, 
he  accompanied  him  to  the  door  of  the  hotel.  Monte 
Cristo  was  not  deceived.  As  soon  as  he  appeared  in  the 
Comte  de  Morcerf 's  ante-chamber,  a  footman,  the  same 
who  at  Rome  had  brought  the  count's  card  to  the  two 
young  men,  and  announced  his  visit,  sprang  into  the  vesti- 
bule, and  when  he  arrived  at  the  door  the  illustrious 
traveler  found  his  carriage  awaiting  him.  It  was  a  coupe 

Vol..    I.— 21 


478  THE  CO  UNT  OF  MONTE  CRI8TO. 

of  Roller's  building,  and  the  horses  and  harness  for  which 
Drake  had,  to  the  knowledge  of  all  the  lions  of  Paris, 
refused  on  the  previous  day  700  guineas. 

"  Monsieur,"  said  the  count  to  Albert,  "  I  do  not  ask 
you  to  accompany  me  to  my  house,  as  I  can  only  show  you 
a  habitation  fitted  up  in  a  hurry,  and  I  have,  as  you  know, 
a  reputation  to  keep  up  as  regards  not  being  taken  by 
surprise.  Give  me,  therefore,  one  more  day  before  I  invite 
you;  I  shall  then  be  certain  not  to  fail  in  my  hospitality." 

"If  you  ask  me  for  a  day,  count,  I  know  what  to  antici- 
pate; it  will  not  be  a  house  I  shall  see,  but  a  palace.  You 
have  decidedly  some  genie  at  your  control." 

(( Ma  foil  spread  that  idea,"  replied  the  Count  of  Monte 
Cristo,  putting  his  foot  on  the  velvet- lined  steps  of  his 
splendid  carriage,  "  and  that  will  be  worth  something  to 
me  among  the  ladies." 

As  he  spoke,  he  sprang  into  the  vehicle,  the  door  was 
closed,  but  not  so  rapidly  that  Monte  Cristo  perceived  the 
almost  imperceptible  movement  which  stirred  the  curtains 
of  the  apartment  in  which  he  had  left  M.  de  Morcerf. 
When  Albert  returned  to  his  mother,  he  found  her  in  the 
boudoir  reclining  in  a  large  velvet  arm-chair ;  the  whole 
room  so  obscure  that  only  the  shining  spangle,  fastened 
here  and  there  to  the  drapery,  and  the  angles  of  the 
gilded  frames  of  the  pictures,  gave  a  kind  of  light  to  the 
room.  Albert  could  not  see  the  countenance  of  the 
countess,  which  was  lost  in  a  thin  veil  she  had  put  on  her 
head,  and  which  descended  around  her  features  like  a 
cloud  of  vapor;  but  seemed  to  him  as  though  her  voice  had 
altered.  He  could  distinguish  amid  the  perfumes  of  the 
roses  and  heliotropes  in  the  flower  stands,  the  sharp  and 
fragrant  odor  of  volatile  salts,  and  he  remarked  in  one  of 
the  chased  cups  on  the  mantel-piece  the  countess'  smelling- 
bottle,  taken  from  its  shagreen  case,  and  exclaimed  in  a 
tone  of  uneasiness,  as  he  entered:  "My  dear  mother,  have 
you  been  unwell  during  my  absence?" 

"No,  no,  Albert!  but  yon  know  these  roses,  tuberoses, 
and  orange-flowers  throw  out  at  first,  before  one  is  used  to 
them,  such  violent  perfumes." 

"  Then,  my  dear  mother,"  said  Albert,  putting  his  hand 
to  the  bell,  "they  must  betaken  into  the  ante-chamber. 
You  are  really  unwell,  and  just  now  were  so  pale  as  you 
came  into  the  room—  " 


THE  CO  UNT  OF  MONTE  CRI8TO.  479 

"Was  I  pale,  Albert?" 

"  Yes;  a  paleness  that  suits  you  admirably,  mother,  but 
which  did  not  the  less  alarm  my  father  and  myself!" 

"Did  your  father  speak  of  it?"  inquired  Mercedes, 
eagerly. 

"  No,  madame;  but  do  not  remember  that  he  remarked 
the  fact  to  you?" 

"Yes,  I  do  remember!"  replied  the  countess. 

A  servant  entered,  summoned  by  Albert's  ring  of  the 
bell. 

"Take  these  flowers  into  the  ante-room  or  dressing- 
room,"  said  the  viscount;  "they  make  the  countess  un- 
well." 

The  footman  obeyed  his  orders.  A  long  pause  ensued, 
which  lasted  until  all  the  flowers  were  removed. 

"What  is  this  .name  of  Monte  Cristo?"  inquired  the 
countess,  when  the  servant  had  taken  away  the  last  vase 
of  flowers;  "  is  it  a  family  name,  or  the  name  of  the  estate, 
or  a  simple  title?" 

"I  believe,  mother,  it  is  merely  a  simple  title.  The 
count  purchased  an  island  in  the  Tuscan  Archipelago, 
and,  as  he  told  you  to-day,  has  founded  a  commandery. 
You  know  the  same  thing  was  done  for  St.  Stephen  of 
Florence,  St.  George,  Coustantinian  of  Parma,  and  even 
for  the  Order  of  Malta.  Except  this,  he  has  no  pretension 
to  nobility,  and  calls  himself  a  chance  count,  although  the 
general  opinion  at  Home  is  that  the  count  is  a  man  of  very 
high  distinction." 

"His  manners  are  admirable,"  said  the  countess:  "at 
least,  as  far  as  I  could  judge  in  a  few  moments  he  remained 
here." 

"  They  are  perfect,  mother,  so  perfect,  that  they  surpass 
by  far  all  I  have  known  in  the  leading  aristocracy  of  the 
three  proudest  noblesses  of  Europe — the  English  aristoc- 
racy, Spanish  aristocracy,  and  German  aristocracy." 

"  The  countess  paused  a  moment ;  then,  after  a  slight 
hesitation,  she  resumed:  "  You  have  seen,  my  dear  Albert 
— I  ask  the  question  as  a  mother — you  have  seen  M.  de 
Monte  Cristo  in  his  house ;  you  are  quick-sighted — have 
much  knowledge  of  the  world — more  tact  than  is  usual  at 
your  age;  do  you  think  the  count  is  really  what  he  appears 

"  What  does  he  appear  to  be?" 


480  THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRI8TO. 

"  Why,  you  have  just  said — a  man  of  high  distinction." 

'  I  told  you,  my  dear  mother,  he  was  esteemed  such=" 

'  But  what  is  your  opinion,  Albert?" 

'  I  must  tell  you  that  I  have  not  come  to  any  decided 
op  nion  respecting  him,  but  I  think  him  a  Maltese." 

'I  do  not  ask  you  of  his  origin,  but  what  he  is." 

'Ah,  what  he' is;  that  is  quite  another  thing.  I  have 
seen  so  many  remarkable  things  of  him,  that  if  you  would 
have  me  really  say  what  I  think,  I  shall  reply  that  I  really 
do  look  upon  him  as  one  of  Byron's  heroes,  whom  misery 
has  marked  with  a  fatal  brand;  some  Manfred,  some  Lara, 
some  Werner,  one  of  those  wrecks,  as  it  were,  of  some 
ancient  family,  who,  disinherited  of  their  patrimony,  have 
achieved  one  by  the  force  of  their  adventurous  genius, 
which  has  place  them  above  the  laws  of  society." 

"You  say ' 

"  I  say  that  Monte  Cristo  is  an  island  in  the  midst  of  the 
Mediterranean,  without  inhabitants  or  garrison,  the  resort 
of  smugglers  of  all  nations,  and  pirates  of  every  flag.  Who 
knows  whether  or  not  these  industrious  worthier  do  not 
pay  to  their  feudal  lord  some  dues  for  his  protection?" 

"  That  is  possible,"  said  the  countess,  reflecting. 

"  Never  mind,"  continued  the  young  man,  "  smuggler 
or  not,  you  must  agree,  mother  dear,  as  you  have  seen 
him,  that  the  Count  of  Monte- Cristo  is  a  remarkable  man, 
who  will  have  the  greatest  success  in  the  salons  of  Paris. 
Why,  this  very  morning,  at  my  abode,  he  made  his  entree 
among  us  by  striking  every  man  of  us  with  amazement, 
not  even  excepting  Chateau  Renaud.'' 

"And  what  do  you  suppose  is  the  count's  age?"  inquired 
Mercedes,  evidently  attaching  great  importance  to  this 
question. 

"  Thirty-five  or  36,  mother." 

"So  young!  It  is  impossible/'  said  Mercedes,  replying 
at  the  same  time  to  what  Albert  said  as  weii  as  to  her  own 
private  reflection. 

"  It  is  the  truth,  however.  Three  or  four  times  he  has 
said  to  me,  and  certainly  without  the  slightest  premedita- 
tion, at  such  a  period  I  was  5  years  old,  at  another  10  years 
oldj  at  another  12;  and  I,  induced  by  curiosity;  which 
kept  me  alive  to  these  details,  have  compared  the  dates 
and  never  found  him  inaccurate.  The  age  of  this  singular 
man  who  is  of  no  age,  is,  then,  I  am  certain,  35.  Besides, 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRI8TO.  481 

mother,  remark  how  vivid  his  eye,  how  raven-black  his 
haii1,  and  his  brow,  though  so  pale,  is  free  from  wrinkles; 
he  is  not  only  vigorous,  but  also  young. " 

The  countess  bent  her  head,  as  if  beneath  a  heavy  wave 
of  bitter  thoughts. 

"And  has  this  man  displayed  a  friendship  for  you, 
Albert?"  she  asked,  with  a  nervous  shudder. 

"I  am  inclined  to  think  so." 

"And — do — you — like — him?" 

"Why,  he  pleases  me  in  spite  of  Franz  d'Epinay,  who 
tries  to  convince  me  that  he  is  a  being  returned  from  the 
other  world." 

The  countess  shuddered. 

"Albert,"  she  said,  in  a  voice  which  was  altered  by  emo- 
tion, "  I  have  always  put  you  on  your  guard  against  new 
acquaintances.  Now  you  are  a  man  and  are  able  to  give 
me  advice;  yet,  I  repeat  to  you,  Albert,  be  prudent." 

"Why,  my  deal  mother,  it  is  necessary,  in  order  to  make 
your  advice  turn  to  Account,  that  I  should  know  beforehand 
what  I  have  to  distrust.  The  count  never  plays,  he  only 
drinks  pure  water  tinged  with  a  little  sherry,  and  is  so  rich 
that  he  cannot,  without  intending  to  laugh  at  me,  try  to 
borrow  money.  What,  then,  have  I  to  fear  from  him?" 

"You  are  right,"  said  the  countess,  "  and  my  fears  are 
weaknesses,  especially  when  directed  against  a  man  who 
has  saved  your  life.  How  did  your  father  receive  him, 
Albert?  It  is  necessary  that  we  should  be  more  than  com- 
plaisant to  the  count.  M.  de  Morcerf  is  sometimes  occu- 
pied; his  business  makes  him  reflective,  and  he  might, 
without  intending  it •" 

"  Nothing  could  be  in  better  taste  than  my  father's  de- 
meanor, madame,"  said  Albert.  "  Nay,  more,  he  seemed 
greatly  flattered  at  two  or  three  compliments  which  the 
count  very  skilfully  and  agreeably  paid  him  with  as  much 
ease  as  if  he  had  known  him  these  thirty  years.  Each  of 
these  little,  tickling  arrows  must  have  pleased  my  father," 
added  Albert,  with  a  laugh.  "And  thus  they  parted  the 
best  possible  friends;  and  M.  de  Morcerf  even  wished  to 
take  him  to  the  chamber  to  hear  the  speakers." 

The  countess  made  no  reply.  She  fell  into  so  deep  a 
reverie  that  her  eyes  gradually  closed.  The  young  man, 
standing  up  before  her,  gazed  upon  her  with  that  filial 
affection  which  is  more  tender  and  endearing  with  children 


482  THE  COTTNT  OF  MONTE  ORISTO. 

whose  mothers  are  still  young  and  handsome.  Then,  after 
seeing  her  eyes  closed,  and  hearing  her  breathe  gently,  he 
believed  she  had  dropped  asleep  and  left  the  apartment  on 
tiptoe,  closing  the  door  after  him  with  the  utmost  precau- 
tion. 

"  This  devil  of  a  fellow,"  he  muttered,  shaking  his 
head;  "I  said  at  the  time  he  would  create  a  sensation  here, 
and  I  measure  his  effect  by  an  infallible  thermometer.  My 
mother  has  noticed  him  and  he  must  therefore,  perforce, 
be  remarkable." 

He  went  down  to  the  stables,  not  without  some  slight 
annoyance,  when  he  remembered  that  the  Count  of  Monte 
Cristo  had  laid  his  hands  on  a  "turnout"  which  sent  his 
bays  down  to  No.  2  in  the  opinion  of  connoisseurs. 
"  Most  decidedly,"  said  he,  "  men  are  not  equal,  and  I 
must  beg  my  father  to  develop  this  theorem  in  the  cham- 
ber of  peers." 

CHAPTER  XLII. 

M.  BEBTTTCCIO. 

DURING  this  time  the  count  had  arrived  at  his  house. 
It  had  taken  him  six  minutes  to  perform  the  distance,  but 
these  six  minutes  were  sufficient  to  induce  twenty  young 
men  who  knew  the  price  of  the  equipage  they  had  been 
unable  to  purchase  themselves,  to  put  their  horses  in  a 
gallop  in  order  to  see  the  rich  foreigner  who  could  afford 
to  give  20,000  francs  apiece  for  his  horses.  The  house  AH 
had  chosen,  and  which  was  to  serve  as  a  town  residence  to 
Monte  Cristo,  was  situated  on  the  right  hand  as  you  as- 
cended the  Champs  Elysees.  A  think  clump  of  trees  and 
shrubs  rose  in  the  center  and  masked  a  portion  of  the 
front;  around  this  shrubbery  two  alleys,  like  two  arms, 
extended  right  and  left  and  formed  a  carriage  drive  from 
the  iron  gates  to  a  double  portico,  on  every  step  of  which 
stood  a  porcelain  vase  filled  with  flowers.  This  house, 
isolated  from  the  rest,  had,  besides  the  main  entrance,  an- 
other in  the  Rue  Ponthieu.  Even  before  the  coachman 
had  hailed  the  concierge,  the  massy  gates  rolled  on  their 
hinges — they  had  seen  the  count  coming,  and  at  Paris,  as 
everywhere  else,  he  was  served  with  the  rapidity  of  light- 
ning. The  coachman  entered,  and,  descending  the  half- 


THE  COUNT  OP  MONTE  CRI8TO.  483 

circle  without  slackening  his  speed,  the  gates  were  closed 
ere  the  wheels  had  ceased  to  sound  on  the  gravel.  The 
carriage  stopped  at  the  left  side  of  the  portico;  two  men 
presented  themselves  at  the  carriage  window.  The  one  was 
Ali,  who,  smilling  with  an  expression  of  the  most  sincere 
joy,  seemed  amply  repaid  by  a  mere  look  from  Monte 
Cristo.  The  other  bowed  respectfully  and  offered  his  arm 
to  assist  the  count  in  descending. 

"Thanks,  M.  Bertuccio,"  said  the  count,  springing 
lightly  up  the  three  steps  of  the  portico;  "  and  the 
notary?" 

"He  is  in  the  small  salon,  excellency/'  returned  Ber- 
tuccio. 

"And  the  cards  I  ordered  to  be  engraved  as  soon  as  you 
knew  the  number  of  the  house?" 

"  M.  le  Comte,  it  is  done  already.  I  have  been  myself 
to  the  best  engraver  of  the  Palais  Royal,  who  did  the  plate 
in  my  presence.  The  first  card  struck  off  was  taken,  ac- 
cording to  your  orders,  to  M.  le  Baron  Danglars,  Rue  de  la 
Chaussee  d'Antin,  No.  7;  the  others  are  on  the  mantel- 
piece of  your  excellency's  bedroom." 

"Good;  what  o'clock  is  it?" 

"Four  o'clock." 

Monte  Cristo  gave  his  hat,  cane  and  gloves  to  the  same 
French  footman  who  had  called  his  carriage  at  the  Comte 
de  Morcerf's,  and  then  he  passed  into  the  sinaJ.l  salon,  pre- 
ceded by  Bertuccio,  who  showed  him  the  way. 

"These  are  but  indifferent  marbles  in  this  ante-cham- 
ber," said  Monte  Cristo.  "I  trust  all  this  will  soon  be 
taken  away." 

Bertuccio  bowed.  As  the  steward  had  said,  the  notary 
awaited  him  in  the  small  salon.  He  was  a  simple-looking 
lawyer's  clerk,  elevated  to  the  extraordinary  dignity  of  a 
provincial  scrivener. 

"You  are  the  notary  empowered  to  sell  the  country 
house,  that  I  wish  to  purchase,  monsieur?"  asked  Monte 
Cristo. 

"Yes,  M.  le  Comte,"  returned  the  notary. 
'Is  the  deed  of  sale  ready?" 
'Yes,  M.  le  Comte." 
'  Have  you  brought  it?" 
'  Here  it  is." 
'Very  well;  and  where  is  this  house  that  I  purchase?" 


484  THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CR18TO. 

asked  the  count,  carelessly,  addressing  himself  half  to 
Bertuccio,  half  to  the  notary. 

The  steward  made  a  gesture  that  signified,  " I  do  not 
know."  The  notary  looked  at  the  count  with  astonish- 
ment. 

"What!"  said  he,  "does  not  M.  le  Comte  know  where 
the  house  he  purchases  is  situated?" 

"  No,"  returned  the  count. 

"M.  le  Comte  does  not  know.it?" 

"How  should  I  know  it?  I  have  arrived  from  Cadiz 
this  morning.  I  have  never  before  been  at  Paris,  and  it  is 
the  first  time  I  have  ever  even  set  my  foot  in  France." 

"Ah!  that  is  different;  the  house  you  purchase  is  situ- 
ate at  Auteuil." 

At  these  words  Bertuccio  turned  pale. 

"And  where  is  Auteuil?"  asked  the  count. 

"  Close  here,  monsieur,"  replied  the  notary;  "  a  little 
beyond  Passy;  a  charming  situation,  in  the  heart  of  the 
Bois  de  Boulogne." 

"  So  near  as  that?"  said  the  count;  "  but  that  is  not  in 
the  country.  What  made  you  choose  a  house  at  the  gates 
of  Paris,  M.  Bertuccio?" 

"  I!"  cried  the  steward,  with  a  strange  expression.  "  M. 
le  Comte  did  not  charge  me  to  purchase  this  house.  If 
M.  le  Comte  will  recollect— if  he  will  think " 

"  Ah,  true,"  observed  Monte  Cristo;  "  I  recollect  now. 
I  read  the  advertisement  in  one  of  .the  papers,  and  was 
tempted  by  the  false  title,  «  a  country-house/  '• 

"  It  is  not  yet  too  late,"  cried  Bertuccio,  eagerly;  "  and 
if  your  excellency  will  intrust  me  with  the  commission,  I 
will  find  you  a  better  at  Enghien,  at  Fontenay-aux-Koses, 
or  at  Bellevue." 

"  Oh,  no,"  returned  Monte  Cristo,  negligently;  "since 
I  have  this,  I  will  keep  it!" 

"And  you  are  quite  right,"  said  the  notary,  who  feared 
to  lose  his  fee.  "  It  is  a  charming  place,  well  supplied 
with  spring  water  and  fine  trees;  a  comfortable  habitation, 
although  abandoned  for  a  long  time;  without  reckoning 
the  furniture,  which,  although  old,  is  yet  valuable,  now 
that  old  things  are  so  mucli  sought  after.  I  suppose  M.  le 
Comte  has  the  tastes  of  the  day?" 

"  To  be  sure,"  returned  Monte  Cristo;  "  it  is  very  con- 
venient, then?" 


THE  CO  UNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO.  485 

"  It  is  more — it  is  magnificent." 

"  Peste  !  let  us  not  lose  such  an  opportunity,"  returned 
Monte  Cristo.  "  The  deed,  if  you  please,  M.  le  Notaire." 

And  he  signed  it  rapidly,  after  having  first  run  his  eye 
over  that  part  of  the  deed  in  which  were  specified  the  situ- 
ation of  the  house  and  the  names  of  the  proprietors. 

" Bertuccio,"  said  he,  "give  55,000  francs  to  mon- 
sieur." 

The  steward  left  the  room  with  a  faltering  step,  and  re- 
turned with  a  bundle  of  bank-notes,  which  the  notary 
counted  like  a  man  who  never  gives  a  receipt  for  money' 
until  after  legal  examination. 

"And  now,"  demanded  the  count,  "  are  all  the  forms 
complied  with?" 

"  All,  M.  le  Comte." 

"  Have  you  the  keys?" 

"  They  are  in  the  hands  of  the  concierge,  who  takes  care 
of  the  house;  but  here  is  the  order  I  have  given  him  to 
install  M.  le  Comte  in  his  new  possession." 

"  Very  well;"  and  Monte  Cristo  made  a  sign  with  his 
hand  to  the  notary,  which  said,  "  I  have  no  further  need 
of  you;  you  may  go." 

"But,"  observed  the  honest  notary,  "you  are  mistaken, 
I  think,  M.  le  Comte;  it  is  only  50,000  francs,  everything 
included." 

"And  your  fee?" 

"  Is  included  in  this  sum." 

"But  have  you  not  come  from  Auteuil  here?" 

"  Yes,  certainly." 

"Well,  then,  it  is  but  fair  that  you  should  be  paid  for 
your  loss  of  time  and  trouble,"  said  the  count;  and  he 
made  a  gesture  of  polite  dismissal. 

The  notary  left  the  room  backward,  and  bowing  down 
to  the  ground;  it  was  the  first  time  he  had  ever  met 
a  similar  client. 

"  See  this  gentleman  out,"  said  the  count  to  Bertuccio. 

And  the  steward  followed  the  notary  out  of  the  room. 
Scarcely  was  the  count  alone,  when  he  drew  from  his 
pocket  ii  book  closed  with  a  lock,  and  opened  it  with  a  key 
which  he  wore  round  his  neck,  and  which  never  left  him. 
After  having  sought  for  a  few  minutes,  he  stopped  at  a 
leaf  which  had  several  notes  and  compared  them  with  the 
deed  of  sale,  which  lay  on  the  table,  and  recalling  his 


486  THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CHISTO. 

souvenirs : — "  '  Auteuil,  Rue  de  la  Fontaine,  No  28;'  it  is 
indeed  the  same,"  said  he;  "  and  now,  am  I  to  rely  upon 
an  avowal  extorted  by  religious  or  physical  terror?  How- 
ever, in  an  hour  I  shall  know  all." 

"  Bertuccio!"  cried  he,  striking  a  light  hammer  with  a 
pliant  handle  on  a  small  gong.  "  Bertuccio!" 

The  steward  appeared  at  the  door. 

"  M.  Bertuccio/'  said  the  count,  "  did  you  never  tell 
me  that  you  had  traveled  in  France?" 

"In  some  parts  of  France — yes,  excellency." 

"  You  know  the  environs  of  Paris,  then?" 

"No,  excellency,  no,"  returned  the  steward,  with  a  sort 
of  nervous  trembling,  which  Monte  Cristo,  a  connoisseur 
in  all  emotions,  rightly  attributed  to  great  disquietude. 

"  It  is  unfortunate,"  returned  he,  "  that  you  have  never 
visited  the  environs,  for  I  wish  to  see  my  new  property  this 
evening,  and  had  you  gone  with  me,  you  could  have  given 
me  some  useful  information." 

"  To  Auteuil!"  cried  Bertuccio,  whose  copper  complex- 
ion became  livid;  "I  go  to  Auteuil?" 

"Well,  what  is  there  surprising  in  that?  When  I  live 
at  Auteuil,  you  must  come  there,  as  you  belong  to  mj 
service." 

Bertuccio  hung  down  his  head  before  the  imperious  look 
of  his  master,  and  remained  motionless,  without  making 
any  answer. 

"  Why,  what  has  happened  to  you?  Are  you  going  to 
make  me  ring  a  second  time  for  the  carriage?"  asked 
Monte  Cristo,  in  the  same  tone  that  Louis  XIV  pronounced 
the  famous,  "  I  have  been  almost  obliged  to  wait." 

Bertuccio  made  but  one  bound  to  the  ante-chamber,  and 
cried  in  a  hoarse  voice:  "  His  excellency's  horses!" 

Monte  Cristo  wrote  two  or  three  notes,  and  as  he  sealed 
the  last,  the  steward  appeared. 

"  Your  excellency's  carriage  is  at  the  door,"  said  he. 

"Well,  take  your  hat  and  gloves,"  returned  Monte 
Cristo. 

"Am  I  to  accompany  you,  M.  le  Comte?"  cried  Ber- 
tuccio. 

"  Certainly,  you  must  give  your  orders,  for  I  intend  re- 
siding at  the  house." 

It  was  unexampled  for  a  servant  of  the  count's  to  dare  to 
dispute  an  order  of  his;  so  the  steward,  without  saying  a 


THE  CO  UNT  OF  MONTE  CRI8TO.  487 

word,  followed  his  master,  who  got  into  the  carnage,  and 
signed  him  to  follow,  which  he  did,  seating  himself  respect- 
fully on  the  front  seat. 


CHAPTER  XLIII. 

THE    HOUSE    OF    AUTEUIL. 

MONTE  CRISTO  had  remarked  that,  as  they  descended 
the  staircase,  Bertuccio  signed  himself  in  the  Corsican 
manner,  that  is,  had  formed  the  sign  of  the  cross  in  the 
air  with  his  thumb,  and  as  he  seated  himself  in  the  car- 
riage, muttered  a  short  prayer.  Any  one  but  a  curious 
man  would  have  had  pity  on  seeing  the  steward's  extraordi- 
nary repugnance  for  the  count's  projected  drive  extra 
tnuros  ;  but  it  seemed  the  count  was  too  curious  to  excuse 
Bertuccio  this  little  journey.  In  twenty  minutes  they 
were  at  Auteuil;  the  steward's  emotion  had  continued  to 
augment  as  they  entered  the  village.  Bertuccio  crouched 
in  a  corner  of  the  carriage,  began  to  examine  with  a  fever- 
ish anxiety  every  house  they  passed. 

"  Tell  them  to  stop  at  Rue  dela  Fontaine,  No.  28,"  said 
the  count,  fixing  his  eyes  on  the  steward,  to  whom  he  gave 
this  order. 

Bertuccio's  forehead  was  covered  with  perspiration;  but, 
however,  he  obeyed,  and  leaning  out  of  the  window,  he 
cried  to  the  coachman:  "  Rue  de  la  Fontaine,  No.  28." 

No.  28  was  situated  at  the  extremity  of  the  village;  dur- 
ing the  drive  night  had  set  in,  or  rather  a  black  cloud, 
charged  with  electricity,  gave  to  these  vapors  the  appear- 
ance and  solemnity  of  a  dramatic  episode.  The  carriage 
stopped,  the  footman  sprang  off  the  box,  and  opened  the 
door. 

"  Well,"  said  the  count,  "you  do  not  get  out,  M.  Ber- 
tuccio— you  are  going  to  stay  in  the  carriage,  then  ?  What 
are  you  thinking  of  this  evening  ?"  Bertuccio  sprang  out 
and  offered  his  shoulder  to  the  count,  who,  this  time 
leaned  upon  it  as  he  descended  three  steps  of  the  carriage. 
"Knock, "said  the  count,  "and  announce  me."  Ber- 
tuccio knocked,  the  door  opened  and  the  concierge  ap- 
peared. "  What  is  it,"  asked  he. 


488  THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  ORISTO. 

"  It  is  your  new  master,  my  good  fellow/'  said  the  foot- 
man. And  he  held  out  to  the  concierge  the  notary's  order. 

"The  house  is  sold,  then  ?"  demanded  the  concierge; 
"  and  this  gentleman  is  coming  to  live  here  ?" 

"Yes,  my  friend/'  returned  the  count;  "and  I  will  en- 
deavor to  give  you  no  cause  to  regret  your  old  master." 

"  Oh,  monsieur  "  said  the  concierge,  "  I  shall  not  have 
much  cause  to  regret  him,  for  he  came  here  but  seldom  ; 
it  is  five  years  since  he  was  here  last;  and  he  did  well  to 
sell  the  house,  for  it  did  not  bring  him  in  anything  at  all." 

"  What  was  the  name  of  your  old  master  ?"  said  Monte 
Cristo. 

"  M.  le  Marquis  de  St.  Meran.  Ah,  I  am  sure  he  has 
not  sold  the  house  for  what  he  gave  for  it." 

"  The  Marquis  de  St.  Meran  I"  returned  the  count. 
The  name  is  not  unknown  to  me;  the  Marquis  de  St. 
Meran  !"  and  he  appeared  to  meditate. 

"An  old  gentleman,"  continued  the  concierge,  "a 
stanch  follower  of  the  Bourbons;  he  had  an  only  daughter, 
who  married  M.  de  Villefort,  who  had  been  the  procureur 
du  roi  at  Nimes,  and  afterward  at  Versailles." 

Monte  Cristo  glanced  at  Bertuccio,  who  became  whiter 
than  the  wall  against  which  he  leaned  to  prevent  himself 
from  falling. 

"  And  is  not  his  daughter  dead  ?"  demanded  Monte 
Cristo;  "I  fancy  I  have  heard  so." 

"Yes,  monsieur,  one-and -twenty  years  ago;  and  since 
then  we  have  not  seen  the  poor  marquis  three  times." 

"  Thanks,  thanks,"  said  Monte  Cristo,  judging  from  the 
steward's  utter  prostration  that  he  could  not  stretch  the 
cord  further  without  danger  of  breaking  it.  ' '  Give  me  a 
light." 

"  Shall  I  accompany  you,  monsieur  ?" 

"No,  it  is  unnecessary;  Bertuccio  will  show  me  alight." 

And  Monte  Cristo  accompanied  these  words  by  the  gift 
of  two  pieces  of  gold,  which  produced  a  torrent  of  thank? 
and  blessings  from  the  concierge. 

"  Ah,  monsieur,"  said  he,  after  having  vainly  searched 
on  the  mantel-piece  and  shelves,  "I  have  not  got  any 
candles." 

"  Take  one  of  the  carriage-lamps,  Berfcuccio,  said  the 
count,  "and  show  me  the  apartments/' 

The  steward  obeved  in  silence,  but  it  was  easv  to  see, 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRI8TO.  489 

from  the  manner  in  which  the  hand  that  held  the  light 
trembled,  how  much  it  cost  him  to  obey.  They  went  over 
a  tolerably  large  ground-floor,  a  first  floor  consisting  of  a 
salon,  a  bath-room  and  two  bedrooms;  by  one  of  these  beds 
they  arrived  at  a  winding  staircase  that  opened  on  to  the 
garden. 

"  Ah!  here  is  a  private  staircase,"  said  the  count,  "  that 
is  convenient.  Light  me,  M.  Bertuccio,  and  go  first;  we 
will  see  where  it  leads  to." 

"  Monsieur,"  replied  Bertuccio,  "  it  leads  to  the  garden." 

"And  pray,  how  do  you  know  that?" 

"  It  ought  to  do  so,  at  least." 

"  Well,  let  us  be  sure  of  that."  Bertuccio  sighed  and 
went  on  first;  the  stairs  led,  in  reality,  to  the  garden.  At 
the  outer  door  the  steward  paused.  "  Go  on,  M.  Ber- 
tuccio," said  the  count. 

But  he  to  whom  he  spoke  was  stupefied,  bewildered, 
stunned;  his  haggard  eyes  glanced  round,  as  if  in  search  of 
the  traces  of  some  terrible  event,  and  with  his  clinched 
hands  he  seemed  striving  to  shut  out  some  horrible  recol- 
lections. 

"Well  !"  insisted  the  count. 

"  No,  no,"  cried  Bertuccio,  setting  down  the  lantern  at 
the  angle  of  the  interior  wall.  "  No,  monsieur,  it  is  im- 
possible; I  can  go  no  further." 

"  What  does  this  mean  ?"  demanded  the  irresistible  voice 
of  Monte  Cristo. 

"  Why,  you  must  see,  M.  le  Comte,"  cried  the  steward, 
"  that  this  is  not  natural;  that,  having  a  house  to  purchase, 
you  purchase  it  exactly  at  Auteuil;  and  that,  purchasing  it 
at  Auteuil,  this  house  should  be  No.  28,  Kue  de  la  Fontaine. 
Oh  !  why  did  I  not  tell  you  all  ?  I  am  sure  you  would  not 
have  forced  me  to  come.  I  hoped  your  house  would  have 
been  some  other  one  than  this;  as  if  there  was  not  another 
house  at  Auteuil  than  that  of  the  assassination  !" 

"  Ah  !  ah  !"  cried  Monte  Cristo,  stopping  suddenly, 
"  what  words  did  you  utter?  Devil  of  a  man,  Corsican 
that  you  are — always  mysterious  and  superstitious.  Come, 
take  the  lantern,  and  let  us  visit  the  garden;  you  are  not 
afraid  of  ghosts  with  me,  I  hope  ?" 

Bertuccio  raised  the  lantern  and  obeyed.  The  door,  as 
it  opened,  disclosed  a  gloomy  sky,  in  which  the  moon  strove 
vainly  to  struggle  through  a  sea  of  clouds  that  covered  her 


490  THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO. 

with  their  somber  wave,  that  she  illumined  for  an  instant 
and  was  then  lost  in  the  darkness.  The  steward  wished  to 
turn  to  the  left. 

"  No,  no,  monsieur,"  said  Monte  Cristo.  "  What  is  the 
use  of  following  the  alleys  ?  Here  is  a  beautiful  lawn;  let 
us  go  on  straightforward." 

Bertuccio  wiped  the  perspiration  from  his  brow,  but 
obeyed;  however,  he  continued  to  take  the  left  hand. 
Monte  Cristo,  on  the  contrary,  took  the  right  hand; 
arrived  near  a  clump  of  trees,  he  stopped.  The  steward 
could  not  restrain  himself. 

"  Move,  monsieur — move  away,  I  entreat  you;  you  are 
exactly  in  the  spot  I" 

"  What  spot  ?" 

"Where  he  fell." 

"My  dear  M.  Bertuccio,"  said  Monte  Cristo,  laugh- 
ing, "recover  yourself;  we  are  no  longer  at  Sarte'ne  or 
at  Corte.  This  is  not  a  mdquis  but  an  English  garden  ; 
badly  kept,  I  own,  but  still  you  must  not  calumninate  it  for 
that." 

"  Monsieur,  I  implore  you,  do  not  stay  there  !" 

"  I  think  you  are  going  mad,  Bertuccio,"  said  the  count, 
coldly.  "  If  that  is  the  case,  I  warn  you,  I  shall  have  you 
put  in  a  lunatic  ayslum." 

"  Alas,  excellency,"  returned  Bertuccio.  joining  his 
hands,  and  shaking  his  head  in  a  manner  that  would  have 
excited  the  count's  laughter  had  not  thoughts  of  a  superior 
interest  occupied  him  and  rendered  him  attentive  to  the 
least  revelation  of  this  timorous  conscience.  "  Alas  !  ex- 
cellency, the  evil  has  arrived  !" 

"  M.  Bertuccio,"  said  the  count,  "  I  am  very  glad  to  tell 
you,  that  while  you  gesticulate,  you  wring  your  hands  and 
roll  your  eyes  like  a  man  possessed  by  a  devil  who  will  not 
leave  him;  and  I  have  always  remarked  that  the  devil  most 
obstinate  to  be  expelled  is  a  secret.  I  knew  you  were  a 
Corsican.  I  knew  you  were  gloomy  and  always  brooding 
over  some  old  history  of  the  vendetta;  and  I  overlooked  that 
in  Italy,  because  in  Italy  those  things  are  thought  nothing 
of.  But  in  France  they  are  considered  in  very  bad  taste;  there 
are  gendarmes  who  occupy  themselves  with  such  affairs, 
judges  who  condemn  and  scaffolds  which  avenge.  Ber- 
tuccio clasped  his  hands,  and  as.  in  all  these  evolutions, 
he  did  not  let  fall  the  lantern,  the  light  showed  his  pale 


THE  CO  UNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO.  491 

and  altered  countenance.  Monte  Cristo  examined  him 
with  the  same  look  that,  at  Kome,  had  viewed  the  execu- 
tion of  Andrea,  and  then  in  a  tone  that  made  a  shudder 
pass  through  the  veins  of  the  poor  steward; 

"The  Abbe  Busoni,  then,  told  me  an  untruth," said  he, 
"  when,  after  his  journey  in  France  in  1829,  he  sent  you 
to  me  with  a  letter  of  recommendation  in  which  he  enu- 
merated all  your  valuable  qualities.  "Well,  I  shall  write  to 
the  abbe;  I  shall  render  him  responsible  for  his  protege's 
misconduct  and  I  shall  soon  know  all  about  this  assassina- 
tion. Only  I  wain  you  that  when  I  reside  in  a  country  I 
conform  to  all  its  codes,  and  I  have  no  wish  to  put  myself 
within  the  compass  of  the  French  laws  for  your  sake." 

"Oh,  do  not  do  that,  excellency!  I  have  always  served 
you  faithfully,"  cried  Bertuccio,  in  despair.  "I  have 
always  been  an  honest  man,  and  as  far  as  lay  in  my  power 
I  have  done  good." 

"I  do  not  deny  it,"  returned  the  count;  "but  why  are 
you  thus  agitated?  It  is  a  bad  sign;  a  quiet  conscience 
does  not  occasion  such  paleness  in  the  cheeks  and  such 
fear  in  the  hands  of  a  man." 

"But,  M.  le  Comte,"  replied  Bertuccio,  hesitatingly, 
"  did  not  M.  FAbbe  Busoni,  who  heard  my  confession  in 
the  prison  at  Nimes,  tell  you  I  had  a  heavy  reproach  to 
make  against  myself  ?" 

"  Yes;  but  as  he  said  you  would  make  an  excellent 
steward  I  concluded  you  had  stolen — that  was  all." 

"  Oh,  M.  le  Comte!"  returned  Bertuccio,  contemptu- 
ously. 

"  Or,  as  you  are  a  Corsican,  that  you  had  been  unable 
to  resist  the  desire  of  making  apeau,  as  you  call  it." 

"  Yes,  my  good  master,"  cried  Bertuccio,  casting  him- 
seK  at  the  count's  feet,  "it  was  simply  a  vengeance — 
nothing  else." 

"  I  understand  that,  but  I  do  not  understand  what  it  is 
:hat  galvanizes  you  in  this  manner." 

"  But,  monsieur,  it  is  very  natural,"  returned  Bertuccio, 
'•  since  it  was  in  this  house  that  my  vengeance  was  accom- 
plished." 

"What!  my  house;"' 

"  Oh,  M.  le  Comte,  it  was  not  yours  then." 

"Whose,  then?  M.  le  Marquis  de  Saint-Meran,  I 
think  the  concierge  said.  What  had  you  to  revenge  on 
the  Marquis  de  $aint-Me>an?" 


492  THE  CO  UNT  OF  MONTE  CRI8TO. 

"  Oh,  it  was  not  on  him,  monsieur;  it  was  on  another/' 

"  This  is  strange/'  returned  Monte  Cristo,  seeming  to 
yield  to  his  reflections,  "  that  you  should  find  yourself 
without  any  preparation  in  the  house  where  the  event  hap- 
pened that  causes  you  so  much  remorse." 

"  Monsieur,"  said  the  steward,  "  it  is  fatality,  I  am 
sure.  First,  you  purchase  a  house -at  Auteuil — this  house 
is  the  one  where  I  have  committed  an  assassination;  you  de- 
scend to  the  garden  by  the  same  staircase  by  which  he 
descended;  you  stop  at  the  spot  where  he  received  the 
blow;  and  two  paces  further  is  the  grave  in  which  he  had 
just  buried  his  child.  This  is  not  chance;  for  chance  in 
this  case  resembles  Providence  too  much." 

"  Well,  M.  le  Corse,  let  us  suppose  it  is  Providence.  I 
always  suppose  anything  people  please;  and,  besides,  you 
must  concede  something  to  diseased  minds.  Come,  col- 
lect yourself  and  tell  me  all." 

"  I  have  never  related  it  but  once,  and  that  was  to  the 
Abbe  Busoni.  Such  things,"  continued  Bertuccio,  shak- 
ing his  head,  "are  only  related  under  the  seal  of  con- 
fession." 

11  Then,"  said  the  count,  "I  refer  you  to  your  con- 
fessor. Turn  Chartreux  or  Trappist  and  relate  your 
secrets;  but,  as  for  me,  I  do  not  like  any  one  who  is 
alarmed  by  such  phantasms,  and  I  do  not  choose  that  my 
servants  should  be  afraid  to  walk  in  the  garden  of  an 
evening.  I  confess  I  am  not  very  desirous  of  a  visit  from 
the  commissaire  de  police  ;  for  in  Italy  justice  is  only  paid 
when  silent — in  France  she  is  paid  only  when  she  speaks. 
Peste!  I  thought  you  somewhat  Corsican,  a  great  deal 
smuggler  and  an  excellent  steward;  but  I  see  you  have 
other  strings  to  your  bow.  You  are  no  longer  in  my 
service,  M.  Bertuccio." 

"Oh,  M.  le  Comte!  M.  le  Comte!"  cried  the  steward, 
struck  with  terror  at  this  threat,  "  if  that  is  the  only  rea- 
son I  cannot  remain  in  your  service  I  will  tell  all;  for  if  I 
quit  you  it  will  only  be  to  go  to  the  scaffold." 

"  That  is  different,"  replied  Monte  Cristo;  "  but  if  you 
intend  to  tell  an  untruth  reflect  it  were  better  not  to  speak 
at  all." 

"  No,  monsieur,  I  swear  to  you  by  my  hopes  of  salva- 
tion, I  will  tell  you  all,  for  the  Abbe  Busoni  himself  only 
knew  a  part  of  my  secret;  but,  I  pray  you,  go  away  from 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRI8TO.  493 

that  plane-tree;  the  moon  is  just  bursting  through  the 
clouds  and  there,  standing  where  you  do,  and  wrapped  in 
that  cloak  that  conceals  your  figure,  you  remind  me  of  M. 
de  Villefort." 

"What!"  cried  Monte  Cristo,  "it  was  M.  de  Villefort?" 

"  Your  excellency  knows  him?" 

"  The  former  procureur  du  roi  at  Nimes?" 

"Yes." 

"  Who  married  the  Count  de  Saint-Meran's  daughter?" 

"Yes." 

"  Who  enjoyed  the  reputation  of  being  the  most  severe, 
the  most  upright,  the  most  rigid  magistrate  on  the  bench  ?" 

"  Well,  monsieur,"  said  Bertuccio,  "  this  man  with  this 
spotless  reputation " 

"  Well?" 

"  Was  a  villain!" 

"Bah!"  replied  Monte  Cristo,  "impossible!" 

"It  is  as  I  tell  you." 

"  Ah,  really!"  said  Monte  Cristo.  "  Have  you  proof  of 
this?" 

"I  had  it." 

"And  you  have  lost  it;  how  stupid!" 

"  Yes;  but  by  careful  search  it  might  be  recovered." 

"Really,"  returned  the  count,  "relate  it  to  me,  for  it 
begins  to  interest  me." 

And  the  count,  humming  an  air  from  "  Lucia  di  Lam- 
mermoor,"  went  to  sit  down  on  a  bench,  while  Bertuccio 
followed,  collecting  his  thoughts.  Bertuccio  remained 
standing  before  him. 


CHAPTER  XLIV. 

THE   VENDETTA. 

"  FROM  what  point  shall  I  commence  my  story,  M.  le 
Comte?"  asked  Bertuccio. 

"From  where  you  please,"  returned  Monte  Cristo, 
"  since  I  know  nothing  at  all  of  it." 

"  I  thought  M.  1'Abbe  Busoni  had  told  your  excellency." 

"  Some  particulars,  doubtless;  but  that  is  seven  or  eight 
years  ago,  and  I  have  forgotten  them, " 


494  THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO. 

"  Then  I  can  speak  without  fear  of  tiring  your  ex< 
cellency?" 

"  Go  on,  M.  Bertuccio;  you  will  supply  the  want  of  the 
evening  papers." 

"  The  story  begins  in  1815." 

"Ah,"  said  Monte  Cristo,  "1815  is  not  yesterday." 

"  No,  monsieur;  and  yet  I  recollect  all  things  as  clearly 
as  if  they  had  happened  but  then.  I  had  a  brother,  an 
elder  brother,  who  was  in  the  service  of  the  emperor;  he 
had  become  lieutenant  in  a  regiment  composed  entirely  of 
Corsicans.  This  brother  was  my  only  friend;  we  became 
orphans — I  at  5,  he  at  18.  He  brought  me  up  as  if  I  had 
been  his  son,  and  in  1814  he  married.  When  the  emperor 
returned  from  the  Island  of  Elba  my  brother  instantly 
joined  the  army,  was  slightly  wounded  at  Waterloo  and 
retired  with  the  army  behind  the  Loire." 

"  But  that  is  the  history  of  the  Hundred  Days,  M.  Ber- 
tuccio," said  the  count;  "  unless  I  am  mistaken,  it  has 
been  already  written." 

"  Excuse  me,  excellency,  but  these  details  are  necessary 
and  you  promised  to  be  patient." 

"Go  on;  I  will  keep  my  word." 

"  One  day  we  received  a  letter.  I  should  tell  you  that 
we  lived  in  the  little  village  of  Rogliano,  at  the  extremity 
of  Cape  Corse.  This  letter  was  from  my  brother.  He 
told  us  that  the  army  was  disbanded  and  that  he  should 
return  by  Chdteauroux,  Clermont-Ferrand,  Le  Pay  and 
Nimes,  and  if  I  had  any  money  he  prayed  me  to  leave  it 
for  him  at  Nimes,  with  an  aubergiste  with  whom  I  had 
dealings." 

"  In  the  smuggling  line?"  said  Monte  Cristo. 

"  Eh,  M.  le  Comte?    Every  one  must  live." 

"  Certainly ;  continue." 

"  I  loved  my  brother  tenderly,  as  I  told  your  excellency, 
and  I  resolved  not  to  send  the  money  but  to  take  it  to  him 
myself.  I  possessed  1,000  francs  (£40).  I  left  500  francs 
with  Assunta,  my  sister-in-law,  and  with  the  other  500 
francs  I  set  off  to  Nlmes.  It  was  easy  to  do  so  ;  and  as  I 
had  my  boat  and  a  lading  to  take  in  at  sea,  everything 
favored  my  project.  But,  after  we  had  taken  in  our  cargo, 
the  wind  became  contrary,  so  that  we  were  four  or  five  days 
without  being  able  to  enter  the  Rhone.  At  last,  however, 
we  succeeded,  and  worked  up  to  Aries.  I  left  the  boat 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRT8TO.  495 

between  Bellegarde  and  Beaucaire,  and  took  the  road  to 
Nimes/' 

"  We  are  getting  to  the  story  now?" 

"  Yes,  your  excellency  ;  excuse  me,  but,  as  you  will  see, 
I  only  tell  you  what  is  absolutely  necessary.  Just  at  this 
time  the  famous  massacres  of  the  south  of  France  took 
place.  Two  or  three  brigands,  called  Trestaillon,  Tru- 
phemy,  and  Graff  an,  publicly  assassinated  everybody  whom 
they  suspected  of  Bonapartism.  You  have  doubtless  heard 
of  these  massacres,  M.  le  Comte?" 

"  Vaguely  ;  I  was  far  from  France  at  that  period.  Go 
on/' 

"As  I  entered  Nimes,  I  literally  waded  in  blood  ;  at 
every  step  you  encountered  dead  bodies  and  bands  of  the 
murderers,  who  killed,  plundered,  and  burned.  At  the 
sight  of  this  slaughter  and  devastation  I  became  terrified, 
not  for  myself — for  I,  a  simple  Corsican  fisherman,  had 
nothing  to  fear,  on  the  contrary,  that  time  was  most 
favorable  for  us  smugglers — but  for  my  brother,  a  soldier 
of  the  empire,  returning  from  the  army  of  the  Loire,  with 
his  uniform  and  his  epaulets,  there  was  everything  to  ap- 
prehend. I  hastened  to  the  aubergiste.  My  presages  had 
been  but  too  true  ;  my  brother  had  arrived  the  previous 
evening  at  Nimes,  and,  at  the  very  door  of  the  house  where 
he  was  about  to  demand  hospitality,  he  had  been  assassin- 
ated. I  did  all  in  my  power  to  discover  the  murderers,  but 
no  one  durst  tell  me  their  names,  so  much  were  they 
dreaded.  I  then  thought  of  that  French  justice  of  which 
I  had  heard  so  much,  and  which  feared  nothing,  and  I 
went  to  the  procureur  du  roi." 

"And  this  procureur  du  roi  was  named  Villefort?"  asked 
Monte  Cristo,  carelessly. 

"  Yes,  your  excellency ;  he  came  from  Marseilles,  where 
he  had  been  deputy  procureur.  His  zeal  had  procured 
him  advancement,  and  he  was  said  to  be  one  of  the  first 
who  had  informed  the  government  of  the  departure  from 
the  Island  of  Elba." 

"  Then,"  said  Monte  Cristo,  "you  went  to  him?" 

"  '  Monsieur/  I  said,  '  my  brother  was  assassinated  yes- 
terday in  the  streets  of  Nimes,  I  know  not  by  whom,  but 
it  is  your  duty  to  find  out.  You  are  the  head  of  justice 
here,  and  it  is  for  justice  to  avenge  those  she  has  been 
unable  to  protect/ 


496  THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO. 

"  'Who  was  your  brother?'  asked  he. 

"  *  A  lieutenant  in  the  Corsican  battalion.' 

"  'A  soldier  of  the  usurper  then?' 

"  '  A  soldier  of  the  French  army/ 

"  'Well,' replied  he,  'he  has  smitten  with  the  sword> 
and  has  perished  by  the  sword.' 

"  '  You  are  mistaken,  monsieur/  I  replied ;  '  he  has 
perished  by  the  poniard.' 

"  '  What  do  you  want  me  to  do?'  asked  the  magistrate. 

"  'I  have  already  told  you — avenge  him.' 

"  'On  whom?'    ' 

"  '  On  his  murderers.' 

"  '  How  should  I  know  who  they  are?' 

"  '  Order  them  to  be  sought  for.' 

"  '  Why,  your  brother  has  been  involved  in  a  quarrel, 
and  killed  in  a  duel.  All  these  old  soldiers  commit  ex- 
excesses  which  were  tolerated  in  the  time  of  the  emperor, 
but  which  are  not  suffered  now ;  for  the  people  here  do 
not  like  soldiers  of  such  disorderly  conduct. 

"  'Monsieur,'  I  replied,  'it  is  not  for  myself  that  I 
entreat  your  interference  —  I  should  grieve  for  him  or 
avenge  him ;  but  my  poor  brother  had  a  wife,  and,  were 
anything  to  happen  to  me,  the  poor  creature  would  perish 
from  want ;  for  my  brother's  pay  alone  kept  her.  Pray, 
try  and  obtain  a  small  government  pension  for  her.' 

"  '  Every  revolution  has  its  catastrophes,'  returned  M. 
de  Villefort ;  '  your  brother  has  been  the  victim  of  this. 
It  is  a  misfortune,  and  government  owes  nothing  to  his 
family.  If  we  are  to  judge  by  all  the  vengeance  that  the 
followers  of  the  usurper  exercised  on  the  partisans  of  the 
king,  when,  in  their  turn,  they  were  in  power,  your  brother 
would  be  to-day,  in  all  probability,  condemned  to  death. 
What  has  happened  is  quite  natural,  and  is  only  the  law 
of  reprisals.' 

"  '  What !'  cried  I,  '  do  vou,  a  magistrate,  speak  thus  to 
me?' 

"  'All  these  Corsicans  are  mad,  on  my  honor,  replied 
M.  de  Villefort '  they  fancy  that  their  countryman  is  still 
emperor.  You  have  mistaken  the  time  ;  you  should  have 
told  me  this  two  months  ago ;  it  is  too  late  now.  Depart 
instantly,  or  I  will  compel  you  to  do  so.' 

"  I  looked  at  him  an  instant  to  see  if,  by  renewed  en- 
treaties, there  was  anything  to  hope.  But  this  man  was 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO.  497 

of  stone.  I  approached  him,  and  said  in  a  low  voice: 
'  Well,  since  you  know  the  Corsicans  so  well,  you  know  that 
they  always  keep  their  word.  You  think  that  it  was  a 
good  deed  to  kill  my  brother,  who  was  a  Bonapartist,  be- 
cause you  are  a  royalist !  Well,  I,  who  am  a  Bonapartist 
also,  declare  one  thing  to  you,  which  is,  that  I  will  kill 
you  !  From  this  moment  I  declare  the  vendetta  against 
you ;  so  protect  yourself  as  well  as  you  can,  for  the  next 
time  we  meet  your  last  hour  has  come  !'  And  before  he 
had  recovered  from  his  surprise,  I  opened  the  door  and  left 
the  room." 

"Ah,  ah  I"  said  Monte  Cristo,  "with  your  innocent  ap- 
pearance you  do  those  things,  M.  Bertuccio,  and  to  a  pro- 
cvreur  du  roil  Moreover,  did  he  know  what  was  meant 
by  this  terrible  word  *  vendetta?'  " 

"  He  knew  so  well,  that  from  that  moment  he  shut  him- 
self in  his  house,  and  never  went  out  unattended,  seeking 
me  high  and  low.  Fortunately,  I  was  so  well  concealed 
that  he  could  not  find  me.  Then  he  became  alarmed,  and 
dared  not  reside  any  longer  at  Nimes ;  so  he  solicited  a 
change  of  residence,  and,  as  he  was  in  reality  very  influen- 
tial, he  was  nominated  to  Versailles.  But,  as  you  know,  a 
Corsican  who  has  sworn  to  avenge  himself  cares  not  for 
distance ;  so  his  carriage,  fast  as  it  went,  was  never  above 
half  a  day's  journey  before  me,  who  followed  him  on  foot. 
The  most  important  thing  was,  not  to  kill  him  only — for  I 
had  an  opportunity  of  doing  so  a  hundred  times — but  to 
kill  him  without  being  discovered — at  least,  without  being 
arrested.  I  no  longer  belonged  to  myself,  for  I  had  my 
sister-in-law  to  protect  and  provide  for.  During  three 
months  I  watched  M.  de  Villefort ;  for  three  months  he 
took  not  a  step  out  of  doors  without  my  following  him. 
At  length  I  discovered  that  he  went  mysteriously  to 
Auteuil.  I  followed  him  thither,  and  I  saw  him  enter  the 
house  where  we  now  are  ;  only,  instead  of  entering  by  the 
great  door  that  looks  into  the  street,  he  came  on  horseback, 
or  in  his  carnage,  left  the  one  or  the  other  at  the  little  inn, 
and  entered  by  the  gate  you  see  there  !" 

Monte  Cristo  made  a  sign  with  his  head  that  he  could 
discern  amid  the  darkness  the  door  to  which  Bertuccio 
alluded. 

"As  I  had  nothing  more  to  do  at  Versailles,  I  went  to 
Auteuil,  and  gained  all  the  information  I  could.  If  1 


498  THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO. 

wished  to  surprise  him,  it  was  evident  this  was  the  spot  to 
lie  in  wait  for  him.  The  house  belonged,  as  the  concierge 
informed  your  excellency,  to  M.  de  Saint-Meran,  Villefort's 
father-in-law.  M.  de  Saint-Meran  lived  at  Marseilles,  so 
that  this  country  house  was  useless  to  him,  and  it  was  re- 
ported to  be  let  to  a  young  widow,  known  only  by  the 
name  of  *  the  Baroness.' " 

"  Ona  evening,  as  I  was  looking  over  the  wall,  I  saw  a 
young  and  handsome  woman  who  was  walking  alone  in 
that  garden,  which  was  not  overlooked  by  any  windows, 
and  I  guessed  that  she  was  awaiting  M.  de  Villefort.  When 
she  was  sufficiently  near  to  distinguish  her  features,  I  saw 
she  was  from  18  to  19  years  old,  tall  and  very  fair.  As 
she  had  a  loose  muslin  dress  on,  and  as  nothing  concealed 
her  figure,  I  saw  she  would  ere  long  become  a  mother.  A 
few  moments  after,  the  little  door  was  opened  and  a  man 
entered;  the  young  female  hastened  to  meet  him;  they 
threw  themselves  into  each  other's  arms,  embraced  ten- 
derly, and  returned  together  to  the  house.  This  man  was 
M.  de  Villefort;  I  fully  believed  that  when  he  went  out  in 
the  night  he  would  be  forced  to  traverse  the  whole  of  the 
garden  alone." 

"And,"  asked  the  count,  "did  you  ever  know  the  name 
of  this  woman  ?" 

"No,  excellency,"  returned  Bertuccio:  "you  will  see  I 
had  no  time  to  learn  it." 

"  Go  on." 

"  That  evening,"  continued  Bertuccio,  "  I  could  have 
killed  the  procureur  du  roi;  but  as  I  was  not  sufficiently 
master  of  the  localities,  I  was  fearful  of  not  killing  him  on 
the  spot,  and  that,  should  his  cries  give  the  alarm,  I  could 
not  escape,  I  put  it  off  until  the  next  occasion,  and  in 
order  that  nothing  should  escape  me,  I  took  a  chamber 
looking  into  the  street  along  which  ran  the  wall  of  the 
garden.  Three  days  after,  about  7  o'clock  in  the  evening, 
I  saw  a  servant  on  horseback  leave  the  house  at  full  gallop, 
and  take  the  road  that  led  to  Sevres.  I  conjectured  he 
was  going  to  Versailles,  and  I  was  not  deceived.  Three 
hours  after,  the  man  returned  covered  with  dust,  his 
errand  was  performed;  and  ten  minutes  after,  another  man 
on  foot,  muffled  in  a  mantle,  opened  the  little  door  of  the 


garden,  which  he  closed  after  him.    .1  descended  rapidly; 
although  I  had  not  seen  Villefort's  face,   r 


I  recognized  him 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRTSTO.  499 

by  the  beating  of  my  heart.  I  crossed  the  street,  and 
stopped  at  a  post  placed  at  the  angle  of  the  wall,  and  by 
means  of  which  I  had  once  before  looked  into  the  garden. 
This  time  I  did  not  content  myself  with  looking,  but  I 
took  my  knife  out  of  my  pocket,  felt  that  the  point  was 
sharp,  and  sprang  over  the  wall.  My  first  care  was  to  run 
to  the  door;  he  had  left  the  key  in  it,  taking  the  simple 
precaution  of  turning  it  twice  in  the  lock.  Nothing,  then, 
preventing  my  escape  by  this  means,  I  examined  the  locali- 
ties. The  garden  formed  a  long  square;  a  terrace  of 
smooth  turf  extended  in  the  middle,  and  at  the 
corners  were  tufts  of  trees  with  thick  and  massy  foli- 
age, that  mingled  with  the  shrubs  and  flowers.  In  order 
to  go  from  the  door  to  the  house,  or  from  the  house  to  the 
door,  M.  de  Villefort  was  compelled  to  pass  by  one  of  these 
clumps. 

"  It  was  the  end  of  September;  the  wind  blew  violently. 
The  faint  glimpses  of  the  pale  moon,  hidden  at  every  in- 
stant by  the  masses  of  dark  clouds  that  were  sweeping 
across  the  sky,  whitened  the  gravel  walks  that  led  to  the 
house,  but  were  unable  to  pierce  the  obscurity  of  the  thick 
shrubberies,  in  which  a  man  could  conceal  himself  without 
any  fear  of  discovery.  I  hid  myself  in  the  one  nearest  to  the 
path  Villefort  must  take;  and  scarcely  was  I  there  when, 
amidst  the  gusts  of  wind,  I  fancied  I  heard  groans;  but 
you  know,  or  rather  you  do  not  know,  M.  le  Comte,  that 
he  who  is  about  to  commit  an  assassination  fancies  he 
hears  low  cries  perpetually  ringing  in  his  ears.  Two  hours 
passed  thus,  during  which  I  imagined  I  heard  these  moans 
repeated.  Midnight  struck.  As  the  last  stroke  died  away, 
I  saw  a  faint  light  shine  through  the  windows  of  the  private 
stair-case  by  which  we  have  just  descended.  The  door 
opened,  and  the  man  in  the  mantle  re-appeared.  The  terri- 
ble moment  had  come  !  but  I  had  so  long  been  prepared 
for  it  that  rny  heart  did  not  fail  in  the  least;  I  drew  my 
knife  from  my  pocket  again,  opened  it,  and  prepared  my- 
self to  strike.  The  man  in  the  mantle  advanced  toward 
me,  but  as  he  drew  near  I  saw  he  had  a  weapon  in  his  hand. 
I  was  afraid,  not  of  a  struggle,  but  of  a  failure.  When  he 
was  only  a  few  paces  from  me,  I  saw  that  what  I  had  taken 
for  a  weapon  was  only  a  spade.  I  was  still  unable  to  divine 
for  what  reason  M.  de  Villefort  had  this  spade  in  his 
hands,  when  he  stopped  close  to  the  clump,  glanced  round, 


500  THE  CO  UNT  OF  MONTE  GRI8TO. 

and  began  to  dig  a  hole  in  the  earth.  I  then  perceived 
that  he  hid  something  beneath  his  mantle,  which  he  laid 
on  the  grass  in  order  to  dig  more  freely.  Then,  I  confess, 
curiosity  became  mixed  with  my  hatred;  I  wished  to  see 
what  Villefort  was  going  to  do  there,  and  I  remained 
motionless  and  holding  my  breath.  Then  an  idea  crossed 
my  mind,  which  was  confirmed  when  I  saw  the  procureur 
du  roi  lift  from  under  his  mantle  a  box,  two  feet  long,  and 
six  or  eight  inches  deep.  I  let  him  place  the  box  in  the 
bole  he  had  made;  then,  while  he  stamped  with  his  feet  to 
remove  all  traces  of  his  occupation,  I  rushed  on  him  and 
plunged  my  knife  into  his  breast,  exclaiming — 'I  am 
Giovanni  Bertuccio;  thy  death  for  my  brother's;  thy  treas- 
ure for  his  widow;  thou  seest  that  my  vengeance  is  more 
complete  than  I  had  hoped/  I  know  not  if  he  heard  these 
words;  I  think  he  did  not,  for  he  fell  without  a  cry,  I  felt 
his  blood  gush  over  my  face,  but  I  was  intoxicated,  I  was 
delirious,  and  the  blood  refreshed,  instead  of  burning  me. 
In  a  second  I  had  disinterred  the  box;  then,  that  it  might 
not  be  known  I  had  done  so,  I  filled  up  the  hole,  threw 
the  spade  over  the  wall,  and  rushed  through  the  door, 
which  I  double-locked,  carrying  off  the  key." 

"  Ah  I"  said  Monte  Cristo,  "  it  seems  to  me  this  was 
only  a  murder  and  robbery." 

"  No,  your  excellency,"  returned  Bertuccio;  "it  was  a 
vendetta  followed  by  a  restitution." 

"  And  was  the  sum  a  large  one  ?" 

"  It  was  not  money." 

"  Ah !  I  recollect,"  replied  the  count; "  did  you  not  say 
something  of  an  infant  ?" 

"Yes,  excellency;  I  hastened  to  the  river,  sat  down  on 
the  bank,  and  with  my  knife  forced  open  the  lock  of  the 
box.  In  a  fine  linen  cloth  was  wrapped  a  new-born  child. 
Its  purple  visage,  and  its  violet-colored  hands,  showed  it 
had  perished  from  suffocation;  but  as  it  was  not  yet  cold,  I 
hesitated  to  throw  it  into  the  water  that  ran  at  my  feet;  in 
reality,  at  the  end  of  an  instant  I  fancied  I  felt  a  slight 
pulsation  of  the  heart;  and  as  I  had  been  assistant  at  the 
hospital  at  Bastia,  I  did  what  a  doctor  would  have  done — 
I  inflated  the  lungs  by  blowing  air  into  them,  and  at  the 
expiration  of  a  quarter  of  an  hour,  I  saw  the  breathing 
commence,  and  a  feeble  cry  was  heard.  In  my  turn  I 
uttered  a  cry,  but  a  cry  of  joy.  '  God  has  not  cursed  me 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  ORISTO.  501 

then/  I  cried,  'since  he  permits  me  to  save  the  life  of  a 
human  creature,  in  exchange  for  the  life  I  have  taken 
away.'  " 

"  And  what  did  you  do  with  the  child  ?"  asked  Monte 
Cristo.  "  It  was  an  embarassing  load  for  a  man  seeking  to 
escape. " 

"  I  had  not  for  a  moment  the  idea  of  keeping  it,  but 
I  knew  that  at  Paris  there  was  an  hospital  where  they  re- 
ceive these  poor  creatures.  As  I  passed  the  barrier  I  de- 
clared I  had  found  this  child  on  the  road,  and  I  inquired 
where  the  hospital  was;  the  box  confirmed  my  statement; 
the  linen  proved  it  belonged  to  wealthy  parents;  the  blood 
with  which  I  was  covered  might  have  proceeded  from 
the  child  as  well  as  from  any  one  else.  No  objection 
was  raised,  but  they  pointed  out  to  me  the  hospital, 
which  was  situated  at  the  upper  end  of  the  Rue  d'Enfer, 
and  after  having  taken  the  precaution  of  cutting  the 
linen  in  two  pieces,  so  that  one  of  the  two  letters  which 
marked  it  was  wrapped  round  the  child,  while  the  other 
remained  in  my  possession.  I  rang  the  bell  and  fled  with 
all  speed.  A  fortnight  after  I  was  at  Kogliano,  and  I  said 
to  Assunta:  '  Console  thyself,  sister;  Israel  is  dead,  but  he 
is  avenged/  She  demanded  what  I  meant,  and  when  I 
had  recounted  all  to  her — '  Giovanni,'  said  Assunta,  '  you 
should  have  brought  this  child  with  you;  we  would  have 
replaced  the  parents  it  has  lost,  have  called  it  Benedetto, 
and  then,  in  consequence  of  this  good  action,  God  would 
have  blessed  us.'  In  reply  I  gave  her  the  half  of  the  linen 
I  had  kept  in  order  to  reclaim  him  if  we  became  rich." 

"What  letters  were  marked  on  the  linen?"  said  Monte 
Cristo. 

"  An  H  and  N,  surmounted  by  a  baron's  coronet." 

"  By  heaven!  M.  Bertuccio,  you  make  use  of  heraldic 
terms;  where  did  you  study  heraldry?" 

"  In  your  service,  excellency,  where  everything  is 
learned. 

"  Go  on;  I  am  curious  to  know  two  things." 

"  What  are  they,  mouseigneur?" 

"  What  became  of  this  little  boy?  for  I  think  you  told 
me  it  was  a  boy,  M.  Bertuccio." 

"  No,  excellency,  I  do  not  recollect  telling  you  that." 

"  I  thought  you  did;  I  must  have  been  mistaken." 

"  No,  you  were  not,  for  it  was,  in  reality,  a  little  boy. 
DUMAS— VOL.  I.— 22 


502  THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO. 

But  your  excellency  wished  to  know  two  things;  what  was 
the  second  ?" 

"  The  second  was  the  crime  of  which  you  were  accused 
when  you  asked  for  a  confessor,  and  the  Abbe  Busoni 
came  to  visit  you  at  your  request  in  the  prison  at  Nimes." 

"  The  story  will  be  very  long,  excellency." 

"  What  matter?  You  know  I  take  but  little  sleep,  and 
I  do  not  suppose  you  are  very  much  inclined  for  it  either. " 

Bertuccio  bowed  and  resumed  his  story. 

"  Partly  to  drown  the  recollections  of  the  past  that 
haunted  me,  partly  to  supply  the  wants  of  the  poor  widow, 
I  eagerly  returned  to  my  trade  of  smuggler,  which  had  be- 
come more  easy  since  that  relaxation  of  the  laws  which 
always  follows  a  revolution.  The  southern  districts  were 
ill-watched  in  particular,  in  consequences  of  the  disturb- 
ances that  were  perpetually  breaking  out  in  Avignon, 
Nimes  or  Uz£s.  We  profited  by  the  kind  of  respite  gov- 
ernment gave  us  to  make  friends  everywhere.  Since  my 
brother's  assassination  in  the  streets  of  Nimes  I  had  never 
entered  the  town;  the  result  was  the  aubergiste  with 
whom  we  were  connected,  seeing  we  would  no  longer  come 
to  him,  was  forced  to  come  to  us,  and  had  established  a 
branch  to  his  inn  on  the  road  from  Bellegarde  to  Beau- 
caire,  at  the  sign  of  the  Pont  du  Gard.  We  had  thus,  both 
on  the  side  of  Aigues-Mortes,  Martiques,  or  at  Bouc,  a 
dozen  places  where  we  left  our  goods,  and  where,  in  case 
of  necessity,  we  concealed  ourselves  from  the  gendarmes 
and  custom-house  officers.  Smuggling  is  a  profitable  trade 
when  a  certain  degree  of  vigor  and  intelligence  is  em- 
ployed; as  for  myself,  brought  up  in  the  mountains,  I  had 
a  double  motive  for  fearing  the  gendarmes  and  custom- 
house officers,  as  my  appearance  t>efore  the  judges  would 
cause  an  inquiry,  and  an  inquiry  always  looks  back  into 
the  past.  And  in  my  past  life  they  might  find  something 
far  more  grave  than  the  selling  of  smuggled  cigars  or  bar- 
rels of  brandy  without  a  permit.  So,  preferring  death  to 
capture,  I  accomplished  the  most  astonishing  deeds,  and 
which,  more  than  once,  showed  me  that  the  too  great  care 
we  take  of  our  bodies  is  the  only  obstacle  to  the  success  of 
those  projects  which  require  a  rapid  decision  and  vigorous 
and  determined  execution.  In  reality,  when  you  have  once 
devoted  your  life,  you  are  no  longer  the  equal  of  other  men, 
or  rather  other  man  are  no  longer  your  equals;  and  who- 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRI8TO.  503 

soever  has  taken  this  resolution  feels  his  strength  and  re- 
sources doubled." 

"  Philosophy,  M.  Bertuccio,"  interrupted  the  count; 
"  you  have  done  a  little  of  everything  in  your  life." 

"Oh,  excellency!" 

"  No,  no;  but  philosophy  at  10:30  at  night  is  somewhat 
late;  yet  I  have  no  other  observation  to  make,  for  what 
you  say  is  correct,  which  is  more  than  can  be  said  for  all 
philosophy." 

"  My  journeys  became  more  and  more  extensive  and 
more  productive.  Assunta  took  care  of  all  and  our  little 
fortune  increased.  One  day  that  I  was  setting  off  on  an 
expedition,  '  Go/  said  she;  f  at  your  return  I  will  give  you 
a  surprise/  I  questioned  her,  but  in  vain;  she  would  tell 
me  nothing,  and  I  departed.  Our  expedition  lasted  nearly 
six  weeks;  we  had  been  to  Lucca  to  take  in  oil,  to  Leghorn 
for  English  cottons,  and  we  ran  our  cargo  without  opposi- 
tion and  returned  home  full  of  joy.  When  I  entered  the 
house  the  first  thing  I  beheld  in  the  center  of  Assunta's 
chamber  was  a  cradle,  that  might  be  called  sumptuous 
compared  with  the  rest  of  the  furniture,  and  in  it  a  baby 
7  or  8  months  old.  I  uttered  a  cry  of  joy.  The  only 
moments  of  sadness  I  had  known  since  the  assassination  of 
the  procureur  du  roi  were  caused  by  the  recollection  that 
I  had  abandoned  this  child.  For  the  assassination  itself  I 
had  never  felt  any  remorse.  Poor  Assuuta  had  guessed  all. 
She  had  profited  by  my  absence,  and,  furnished  with  the 
half  of  the  linen,  and  having  written  down  the  day  and 
hour  at  which  I  had  deposited  the  child  at  the  hospital, 
had  set  off  for  Paris  and  had  reclaimed  it.  No  objection 
was  raised,  and  the  infant  was  given  up  to  her.  Ah,  I  con- 
fess, M.  le  Comte,  when  I  saw  this  poor  creature  sleeping 
peacefully  in  its  cradle,  I  felt  my  eyes  filled  with  tears. 
'Ah,  Assunta/  cried  I,  'you  are  an  excellent  woman  and 
heaven  will  bless  you!'" 

"  This,"  said  Monte  Cristo,  "  is  less  correct  than  your 
philosophy;  it  is  only  faith." 

"  Alas!  your  excellency  is  right,"  replied  Bertuccio, 
"  and  God  made  this  infant  the  instrument  of  our  punish- 
ment. Never  did  a  perverse  nature  declare  itself  more 
prematurely;  and  yet  it  was  not  owing  to  any  fault  in  his 
bringing  up.  He  was  a  most  lovely  child,  with  large  blue 
eyes,  of  that  deep  color  that  harmonizes  so  well  with  the 


504  THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRI8TO. 

general  fairness  of  the  complexion;  only  his  hair,  which 
was  too  light,  gave  his  face  a  most  singular  expression, 
which  redoubled  the  vivacity  of  his  look  and  the  malice  of 
his  smile.  Unfortunately,  there  is  a  proverb  that  says 
that  '  red  is  either  altogether  good  or  altogether  bad.'  The 
proverb  was  but  too  correct  as  regarded  Benedetto,  and 
even  in  his  infancy  he  manifested  the  worst  disposition.  It 
is  true  that  the  indulgence  of  his  mother  encouraged  him. 
This  child,  for  whom  my  poor  sister  would  go  to  the  town, 
five  or  six  leagues  off,  to  purchase  the  earliest  fruits  and 
the  most  tempting  sweetmeats,  preferred  to  the  grapes  of 
Palma  or  the  preserves  of  Genoa,  the  chestnuts  stolen  from 
a  neighbor's  orchard  or  the  dried  apples  in  his  loft,  when 
he  could  eat  as  well  of  the  nuts  and  apples  that  grew  in  my 
garden.  One  day,  when  Benedetto  was  about  5  or  6,  our 
neighbor  Wasilio,  who,  according  to  the  custom  of  the 
country,  never  locked  up  his  purse  or  his  valuables — for,  as 
your  excellency  knows,  there  are  no  thieves  in  Corsica — 
complained  that  he  had  lost  a  loui  out  of  his  purse;  we 
thought  he  must  have  made  a  mistake  in  counting  his 
money,  but  he  persisted  in  the  accuracy  of  his  statement. 
One  day  Benedetto,  who  had  quitted  the  house  since  the 
morning,  to  our  great  anxiety,  did  not  return  until  late  in 
the  evening,  dragging  a  monkey  after  him,  which,  he 
said,  he  had  found  chained  to  the  foot  of  a  tree.  For 
more  than  a  month  past  the  mischievous  child,  who  knew 
not  what  to  wish  for,  had  taken  it  into  his  head  to  have  a 
monkey.  A  boatman,  who  had  passed  by  Rogliano,  and 
who  had  several  of  these  animals,  whose  tricks  had  greatly 
diverted  him,  had,  doubtless,  suggested  this  idea  to  him. 
*  Monkeys  are  not  found  in  our  woods  chained  to  trees/ 
said  I;  'confess  how  you  obtained  this  animal.'  Benedetto 
maintained  the  truth  of  what  he  had  said  and  accompanied 
it  with  details  that  did  more  honor  to  his  imagination  than 
to  his  veracity.  I  became  angry;  he  began  to  laugh;  I 
threatened  to  strike  him,  and  he  made  two  steps  backward. 
'  You  cannot  beat  me/  said  he;  '  you  have  no  right,  for  you 
are  not  my  father.' 

"  We  never  knew  who  had  revealed  this  fatal  secret, 
which  we  had  so  carefully  concealed  from  him;  however,  it 
was  this  answer,  in  which  the  child's  whole  character  re- 
vealed itself,  that  almost  terrified  me,  and  my  arm  fell 
without  touching  him.  The  boy  triumphed  and  this  vie- 


TEE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRI8TO.  505 

tory  rendered  him  so  audacious,  that  all  the  money  of  As- 
sunta,  whose  affection  for  him  seemed  to  increase  as  he  be- 
came more  unworthy  of  it,  was  spent  in  caprices  she  knew 
not  how  to  contend  against  and  follies  she  had  not  the 
courage  to  prevent.  When  I  was  at  Kogliano  everything 
went  on  properly;  but  no  sooner  was  my  back  turned  than 
Benedetto  became  master  and  everything  went  ill.  When 
he  was  only  11  he  chose  his  companions  from  among  the 
young  men  of  18  or  20,  the  worst  characters  in  Bastia,  or, 
indeed,  in  Corsica;  and  they  had  already,  for  some  pieces 
of  mischief,  been  several  times  threatened  with  a  prosecu- 
tion. I  became  alarmed,  as  any  prosecution  might  be 
attended  with  serious  consequences.  I  was  compelled,  at 
this  period,  to  leave  Corsica  on  an  important  expedition;  I 
reflected  for  a  long  time  and  with  the  hope  of  averting 
some  impending  misfortune,  I  resolved  that  Benedetto 
should  accompany  me.  I  hoped  that  the  active  and 
laborious  life  of  a  smuggler,  with  the  severe  discipline  on 
board,  would  have  a  salutary  effect  on  his  character,  well- 
nigh,  if  not  quite,  corrupted.  I  spoke  to  Benedetto  alone 
and  proposed  to  him  to  accompany  me,  endeavoring  to 
tempt  him  by  all  the  promises  most  likely  to  dazzle  the 
imagination  of  a  child  of  12  years  old.  He  heard  me 
patiently;  and,  when  I  had  finished,  burst  out  laughing. 

"'Are  you  mad,  uncle?'  (he  called  me  by  this  name 
when  he  was  in  a  good  humor);  'do  you  think  I  am  going 
to  change  the  life  I  lead  for  your  mode  of  existence — my 
agreeable  indolence  for  the  hard  and  precarious  toil  you 
impose  on  yourself  ?  exposed  to  the  bitter  frost  at  night 
and  the  scorching  heat  by  day,  compelled  to  conceal  your- 
self, and,  when  you  are  received,  receive  a  volley  of  balls, 
and  all  to  earn  a  paltry  sum?  Why,  I  have  as  much 
money  as  I  want;  mother  Assunta  always  furnishes  me 
when  I  ask  for  it!  You  see  that  I  should  be  a  fool  to 
accept  your  offer.'  The  arguments,  and  this  audacity, 
perfectly  stupefied  me.  Benedetto  rejoined  his  associates, 
and  I  saw  him  from  a  distance  point  me  out  to  them  as  a 
fool." 

"  Sweet  child  !"  murmured  Monte  Cristo. 

"  Oh!  had  he  been  my  own  son,"  replied  Bertuccio,  "  or 
even  my  nephew,  I  would  have  brought  him  back  to  the 
right  road,  for  the  knowledge  that  you  are  doing  your  duty 
gives  you  strength;  but  the  idea  that  I  was  striking  a  child 


506  THE  CO  UNT  OF  MONTE  CRI8TO. 

whose  father  I  had  killed,  made  it  impossible  for  me  to 
punish  him.  I  gave  my  sister,  who  constantly  defended 
the  unfortunate  boy,  good  advice;  and,  as  she  confessed 
that  she  had  several  times  missed  money  to  a  considerable 
amount,  I  showed  her  a  safe  place  in  which  to  conceal  our 
little  treasure  for  the  future.  My  mind  was  already  made 
up;  Benedetto  could  read,  write  and  cipher  perfectly;  for 
when  the  fit  seized  him,  he  learned  more  in  a  day  than 
others  in  a  week;  my  intention  was  to  enter  him  as  a  clerk 
in  some  ship,  and,  without  letting  him  know  anything  of 
my  plan,  to  convey  him  some  morning  on  board;  by  this 
means  his  future  treatment  would  depend  upon  his  own 
conduct.  I  set  off  for  France,  after  having  fixed  upon  the 
plan.  All  our  cargo  was  to  be  landed  in  the  gulf  of 
Lyons;  and  this  plan  was  the  more  difficult,  since  we  were 
in  1829.  The  most  perfect  tranquillity  was  restored  and 
the  vigilance  of  the  custom-house  officers  were  redoubled, 
and  their  strictness  was  increased  at  this  time,  in  conse- 
quence of  the  fair  of  Beaucaire. 

"  Our  expedition  commenced  favorably.  We  anchored 
our  bark,  which  had  a  double  hold,  where  our  goods  were 
concealed,  amid  a  number  of  other  vessels  that  bordered 
the  banks  of  the  Rhone  from  Beaucaire  to  Aries.  On  our 
arrival  there  we  began  to  discharge  our  cargo  in  the  night 
and  to  convey  it  into  the  town,  by  the  help  of  the  auber- 
gistes  with  whom  we  were  connected.  Whether  success 
rendered  us  imprudent,  or  whether  we  were  betrayed,  I 
know  not;  but  one  evening,  about  5  o'clock,  our  little 
cabin-boy  hastened,  breathless,  to  inform  us  that  he  had 
seen  a  detachment  of  custom-house  officers  advancing  in 
our  direction.  It  was  not  their  vicinity  that  alarmed  us, 
for  detachments  were  constantly  patrolling  along  the  banks 
of  the  Rhone,  but  the  care,  according  to  the  boy's  account, 
they  took  to  avoid  being  seen.  In  an  instant  we  were  on 
the  alert,  but  it  was  too  late;  our  vessel  was  surrounded, 
and  among  the  custom-house  officers  I  observed  several 
gendarmes;  and,  as  terrified  at  the  sight  of  their  uniforms 
as  I  was  brave  at  the  sight  of  any  other,  I  sprang  into  the 
hold,  opened  a  port  and  dropped"  into  the  river,  dived  and 
only  rose  at  intervals  to  breathe,  until  I  reached  a  cutting 
that  led  from  the  Rhdne  to  the  canal  that  runs  from  Beau- 
caire to  Aigues  Mortes.  I  was  now  safe,  for  I  could  swim 
along  the  cutting  without  being  seen  and  I  reached  the 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO.  507 

canal  in  safety.  I  had  designedly  taken  this  direction.  I 
have  already  told  your  excellency  of  an  aubergiste  of 
Nimes  who  had  set  up  a  little  inn  on  the  road  from  Belle- 
gurde  to  Beaucaire." 

"Yes,"  said  Monte  Cristo,  "I  perfectly  recollect  him;  I 
think  he  was  your  colleague. " 

"  Precisely/'  answered  Bertuccio;  "but  he  had,  seven  or 
eight  years  before  this  period,  sold  his  establishment  to  a 
tailor  at  Marseilles,  who,  having  almost  ruined  himself  in 
his  old  trade,  wished  to  make  his  fortune  in  another.  Of 
course,  we  made  the  same  arrangements  with  the  new  land- 
lord that  we  had  with  the  old;  and  it  was  of  this  man  that  I 
intended  to  ask  shelter." 

"  What  was  his  name?"  inquired  the  count,  who  seemed 
to  become  somewhat  interested  in  Bertuccio 'B  story. 

"  Gaspard  Caderousse;  he  had  married  a  woman  from 
the  village  of  Carconte,  and  whom  we  did  not  know  by  any 
other  name  than  that  of  her  village.  She  was  suffering 
from  the  marsh-fever  and  seemed  dying  by  inches.  As  for 
her  husband,  he  was  a  strapping  fellow  of  40  or  45,  who 
bad  more  than  once,  in  time  of  danger,  given  ample  proof 
of  his  presence  of  mind  and  courage." 

"  And  you  say,"  interrupted  Monte  Cristo,  "  that  this 
took  place  toward  the  year " 

"1829,  M.  leComte." 
'In  what  month?" 
'June." 

'  The  beginning  ortthe  end  ?" 
«  The  evening  of  the  3d." 

'  Ah,"  said  Monte  Cristo,  "the  evening  of  the  3d  of 
June,  1829.  Go  on." 

"  It  was  from  Caderousse  that  I  intended  demanding 
shelter;  and,  as  we  never  entered  by  the  door  that  opened 
on  to  the  road,  I  resolved  not  to  break  through  the  rule, 
and,  climbing  over  the  garden-hedge,  I  crept  among  the 
olive  and  wild  fig-trees;  and,  fearing  that  Caderousse 
might  have  some  one  there,  I  entered  a  kind  of  shed  in 
which  I  had  often  passed  the  night,  and  which  was  only 
separated  from  the  inn  by  a  partition,  in  which  holes  had 
been  made  in  order  to  enable  us  to  watch  an  opportunity 
of  announcing  our  presence.  My  intention  was,  if 
Caderousse  was  alone,  to  acquaint  him  with  my  presence, 
finish  the  meal  the  custom-house  officers  had  interrupted 


508  THE  CO  UNT  OF  MONTE  GBT8TO. 

and  profit  by  the  threatened  storm  to  return  to  the  Rh6ue 
and  ascertain  the  state  of  our  vessel  and  its  crew.  I 
stepped  into  the  shed,  and  it  was  fortunate  I  did  so,  for  at 
that  moment  Caderousse  entered  with  a  stranger. 

"I  waited  patiently,  not  to  overhear  what  they  said,  but 
because  I  could  do  nothing  else;  besides,  the  same  thing 
had  occurred  often  before.  The  man  who  was  with  Cade- 
rousse was  evidently  a  stranger  to  the  south  of  France;  he 
was  one  of  those  merchants  who  come  to  sell  jewelry  at 
the  fair  of  Beaucaire,  and  who  during  the  month  the  fair 
lasts,  and  during  which  there  is  so  great  an  influx  of 
merchants  and  customers  from  all  parts  of  Europe,  often 
have  dealings  to  the  amount  of  100,000  to  150,000  francs 
(£4,000  to  £6,000).  Caderonse  entered  hastily.  Then, 
seeing  that  the  room  was,  as  usual,  empty,  and  only 
guarded  by  the  dog,  he  called  to  his  wife,  'Helloo,  Car- 
conte!'  said  he,  'the  worthy  priest  has  not  deceived  us;  the 
diamond  is  real.5  An  exclamation  of  joy  was  heard,  and 
the  staircase  creaked  beneath  a  feeble  step.  'What  do  you 
say?'  asked  his  wife,  pale  as  death. 

"  'I  say  that  the  diamond  is  real,  and  that  this  gentle- 
man, one  of  the  first  jewelers  of  Paris,  will  give  us  50,000 
francs  for  it  (£2,000).  Only,  in  order  to  satisfy  himself  it 
really  belongs  to  us,  he  wishes  you  to  relate  to  him,  as  I 
have  done  already,  the  miraculous  manner  in  which  the 
diamond  came  into  our  possession.  In  the  meantime, 
please  to  sit  down,  monsieur,  and  I  will  fetch  you  some 
refreshment.'  The  jeweler  examined  attentively  the  in- 
terior of  the  inn  and  visible  poverty  of  the  persons  who 
were  about  to  sell  him  a  diamond  that  seemed  to  have 
come  from  the  casket  of  a  prince.  'Relate  your  story, 
madame,'  said  he,  wishing,  no  doubt,  to  profit  by  the  ab- 
sense  of  the  husband,  so  that  the  latter  could  not  influ- 
3nce  the  wife's  story,  to  see  if  the  two  recitals  tallied. 

"  'Oh!'  returned  she,  'it  was  a  gift  of  heaven!  My 
husband  was  a  great  friend,  in  1814  to  1815,  of  a  sailor 
named  Edmond  Dantes.  This  poor  fellow,  whom  Cade- 
rousse had  forgotten,  had  not  forgotten  him,  and  at  his 
death  he  bequeathed  this  diamond  to  him.' 

"  'But  how  did  he  obtain  it?'  asked  the  jeweler;  'had  he 
it  before  he  was  imprisoned  ?' 

"  'No,  monsieur;  but  it  appears  that  in  prison  he  made 
the  acquaintance  of  a  rich  Englishman;  and  as  in  prison 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  GR1STO.  509 

he  fell  sick,  and  Dant£s  took  the  same  care  of  him  as  if 
he  had  been  his  brother,  the  Englishman,  when  he  was  set 
free,  gave  this  stone  to  Dant6s,  who,  less  fortunate,  died, 
and,  in  his  turn,  left  it  to  us,  and  charged  the  excellent 
abbe,  who  was  here  this  morning,  to  deliver  it.' 

"  'The  same  story!'  muttered  the  jeweler;  'and-  improb- 
able as  it  seems  at  first,  the  history  may  be  true.  There's 
only  the  price  we  are  not  agreed  about.' 

"  'How  not  agreed  about?'  said  Caderousse.  'I  thought 
we  agreed  for  the  price  I  asked  ' 

"'That  is,'  replied  the  jeweler,  'I  offered  40,000 
francs.' 

"  Forty  thousand!'  cried  La  Carconte;  'we  will  not  part 
with  it  for  that  sum.  The  abbe  told  us  it  was  worth  50,- 
000  francs  without  the  setting.' 

"  'What  was  the  abbe's  name?'  asked  the  indefatigable 
questioner. 

"  'The  Abbe  Busoni/  said  La  Carconte. 

"  'He  was  a  foreigner?' 

"  'An  Italian,  from  the  neighborhood  of  Mantua,  I 
believe.' 

"  'Let  me  see  this  diamond  again,'  replied  the  jeweler; 
'the  first  time  you  are  often  mistaken  as  to  the  value  of  a 
stone.' 

Caderousse  took  from  his  pocket  a  small  case  of  black 
shagreen,  opened,  and  gave  it  to  the  jeweler.  At  the 
sight  of  the  diamond,  which  was  as  large  as  a  hazel-nut, 
La  Carconte's  eyes  sparkled  with  cupidity." 

"And  what  do  you  think  of  this  fine  story,  eaves- 
dropper?" said  Monte  Cristo;  "did  you  credit  it? 

"Yes,  your  excellency.  I  did  not  look  on  Caderousse 
as  a  bad  man,  and  I  thought  him  incapable  of  committing 
a  crime,  or  even  a  theft." 

"That  did  more  honor  to  your  heart  than  to  your  ex- 
perience, M.  Bertuccio.  Had  you  known  this  Edmond 
Dant£s,  of  whom  they  spoke?" 

.  "No,  your  excellency,  I  had  never  heard  of  him  before, 
and  never  but  once  afterward,  and  that  was  from  the 
Abbe  Busoni  himself,  when  I  saw  him  in  the  prison  at 
Nimes." 

"Go  on." 

"The  jeweler  took  the  ring,  and  drawing  from  his 
pocket  a  pair  of  steel  pliers  and  a  small  set  of  copper 


510  THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  GRIBTO. 

scales,  and  taking  the  stone  out  of  its  setting,  he  weighed 
it  carefully. 

"  'I  will  give  you  45,000  francs/  said  he,  'but  not  a  half- 
penny more;  besides,  as  that  is  the  exact  value  of  the  stone, 
I  brought  just  that  sum  with  me/ 

"  'Oh,  that's  no  matter/  replied  Caderousse,  'I  will  go 
back  with  you,  to  fetch  the  other  5,000  francs/ 

"  'No,  returned  the  jeweler,  giving  back  the  diamond 
and  the  ring  to  Caderousse — 'no,  it  is  worth  no  more;  and 
I  am  sorry  I  offered  so  much,  for  the  stone  has  a  flaw  in 
it,  which  I  had  not  seen.  However,  I  will  not  go  from 
my  word,  and  I  will  give  45,000  francs.' 

"  '  At  least,  replace  the  diamond  in  the  ring/  said  La 
Carconte,  sharply. 

"  'Ah,  true/  replied  the  jeweler,  and  he  reset  the  stone/ 

"  '  No  matter,'  observed  Caderousse,  replacing  the  box 
in  his  pocket,  'some  one  else  will  purchase  it/ 

"  '  Yes/  continued  the  jeweler  ;  '  but  some  one  else  will 
not  be  so  easy  as  I  am,  or  content  himself  with  the  same 
story.  It  is  not  natural  that  a  man  like  you  should  pos- 
sess such  a  diamond.  He  will  inform  against  you.  You 
will  have  to  find  the  Abbe  Busoni ;  and  abbes  who  give 
diamonds  worth  2,000  louis  are  rare.  Justice  would  seize 
it,  and  put  you  in  prison  ;  if  at  the  end  of  three  or  four 
months  you  are  set  at  liberty,  the  ring  will  be  lost,  or  a 
false  stone,  worth  3  francs,  will  be  given  you,  instead  of  a 
diamond  worth  50,000  or  perhaps  55,000  francs  ;  by  which 
you  must  allow  one  runs  considerable  risk  in  purchasing/ 

"  Caderousse  and  his  wife  looked  eagerly  at  each  other. 

"  '  No/  said  Caderousse,  '  we  are  not  rich  enough  to 
lose  5,000  francs/ 

"  '  As  you  please,  my  dear  sir/  said  the  jeweler ;  '  I  had, 
however,  as  you  see,  brought  you  the  money  in  bright 
coin/ 

And  he  drew  from  his  pocket  a  handful  of  gold,  which 
lie  made  to  sparkle  in  the  dazzled  eyes  of  the  inn-keeper, 
and  in  the  other  hand  he  held  a  packet  of  bank-notes. 

"  There  was  evidently  a  severe  struggle  in  the  mind  of 
Caderousse;  it  was  evident  that  the  small  shagreen  case, 
which  he  turned  and  returned  in  his  hand,  did  not  seem 
to  him  commensurate  in  value  to  the  enormous  sum  which 
fascinated  his  gaze.  He  turned  toward  his  wife. 

"  '  What  do  you  think  of  this?'  he  asked,  in  a  low  voice. 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRTSTO.  511 

"  '  Let  him  have  it — let  him  have  it/  she  said.  '  If  he 
returns  to  Beaucaire  without  the  diamond  he  will  inform 
against  us;  and,  as  he  says,  who  knows  if  we  shall  ever 
again  see  the  Abbe  Busoni?  In  all  probability  we  shall 
never  see  him/ 

"  '  Well,  then,  so  I  will/  said  Caderotisse;  '  so  you  may 
have  the  diamond  for  45,000  francs.  But  my  wife  wants 
a  gold  chain  and  I  want  a  pair  of  silver  buckles/ 

"'The  jeweler  drew  from  his  pocket  a  long,  flat  box, 
which  contained  several  samples  of  the  articles  demanded. 

"  '  Here/  he  said,  '  I  am  very  plain  in  my  dealings — 
take  your  choice.' 

"  The  woman  selected  a  gold  chain  worth  about  5  louis 
and  the  husband  a  pair  of  buckles  worth  perhaps  15  francs. 

"  '  I  hope  you  will  not  complain  now?'  said  the  jeweler. 

"  '  The  abbe  told  me  it  was  worth  50,000  francs/  mut- 
tered Caderousse. 

"  'Come,  come — give  it  to  me!  What  a  strange  fellow 
you  are  !'  said  the  jeweler,  taking  the  diamond  from  his 
hand.  '  I  give  you  45,000  francs — that  is  2,500  livres  of 
income — a  fortune  such  as  I  wish  I  had  myself,  and  you  are 
not  satisfied !' 

"  'And  the  45,000  france/  inquired  Caderousse  in  a 
hoarse  voice,  '  where  are  they?  Come — let  us  see  them!' 

"  '  Here  they  are/  replied  the  jeweler  ;  and  he  counted 
put  upon  the  table  15,000  francs  in  gold  and  30,000  francs 
in  bank-notes. 

"  '  Wait  while  I  light  the  lamp/  said  La  Carconte;  *  it 
is  growing  dark,  and  there- may  be  some  mistake.' 

"  In  fact,  the  night  had  come  on  during  this  conversa- 
tion, and  with  the  night  the  storm  which  had  been  threat- 
ening for  the  last  half-hour.  The  thunder  was  heard 
growling  in  the  distance  ;  but  neither  the  jeweler,  nor 
Caderousse,  nor  La  Carconte  seemed  to  heed  it,  absorbed 
as  they  were  all  three  with  the  demon  of  gain.  I  myself 
felt  a  strange  kind  of  fascination  at  the  sight  of  all  this  gold 
and  all  these  bank-notes;  it  seemed  to  me  that  I  was  in  a 
dream;  and,  as  it  always  happens  in  a  dream,  I  felt  my- 
self riveted  to  the  spot.  Caderousse  counted  and  again 
counted  the  gold  and  the  bank-notes;  then  handed  them  to 
his  wife,  who  counted  and  counted  them  again  in  her  turn. 
During  this  time  the  jeweler  made  the  diamond  play  and 
sparkle  beneath  the  rays  of  the  lamp,  and  the  gem  threw 


512  THE  CO  UNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO. 

out  jets  of  light  which  made  him  unmindful  of  those 
which — precursors  of  the  storm — began  to  play  in  at  the 
windows. 

"  '  Well/  inquired  the  jeweler,  'is  the  cash  all  right/ 

"  '  Yes/  said  Caderousse.  'Give  me  the  pocket-book, 
La  Carconte,  and  find  a  bag  somewhere/ 

"  '  La  Carconte  went  to  a  cupboard  and  returned  with 
an  old  leathern  pocket-book,  from  which  she  took  some 
greasy  letters,  and  put  in  their  phice  the  bank-notes,  and  a 
bag,  in  which  were  at  the  moment  2  or  3  crowns  of  6  livres 
each,  and  which,  in  all  probability,  formed  the  entire  fort- 
une of  the  miserable  couple/' 

'"  There/  said  Caderousse,  'and  now,  although  you 
have  wronged  us  of  perhaps  10,000  francs,  will  you  have 
your  supper  with  us?  I  invite  you  with  good-will/ 

"  '  Thank  you/  replied  the  jeweler;  '  it  must  be  getting 
late,  and  I  must  return  to  Beaucaire — my  wife  will  be  get- 
ting uneasy/  He  drew  out  his  watch  and  exclaimed  : 
'  MorUeu!  nearly  9  o'clock!  why,  I  shall  not  get  back  to 
Beaucaire  before  midnight!  Good-night,  my  dear.  If  the 
Abbe  Busoni  should  by  any  accident  return,  think  of  me/ 

" '  In  another  week  you  will  have  left  Beaucaire/  re- 
marked Caderousse,  'for  the  fair  finishes  in  a  few  days/ 

"  '  True;  but  that  is  no  consequence.  Write  to.me  at 
Paris,  to  M.  Joannes,  in  the  Palais  Royal,  Stone  Gallery, 
No.  45;  I  will  make  the  journey  on  purpose  to  see  him,  if 
it  is  worth  while/ 

"At  this  moment  there  was  a  tremendous  clash  of 
thunder,  accompanied  by  a  flash  of  lightning  so  vivid,  that 
it  quite  eclipsed  the  light  of  the  lamp. 

"'Oh  dear!'  exclaimed  Caderousse.  'You  cannot  think 
of  going  out  in  such  weather  as  this/ 

"  '  Oh,  I  am  not  afraid  of  thunder!'  said  the  jeweler. 

"  'And  then  there  are  robbers/  said  La  Carconte.  '  The 
road  is  never  safe  during  fair  time.' 

"  'Oh!  as  to  the  robbers/  said  Joannes,  '  here  is  some- 
thing for  them;'  and  he  drew  from  his  pocket  a  pair  of 
small  pistols,  loaded  to  the  muzzle. 

" '  Here/  said  he,  '  are  dogs  who  bark  and  bite  at  the 
same  time;  they  are  for  the  first  two  who  shall  have  a  long- 
ing for  your  diamond,  Daddy  Caderousse.' 

"  Caderousse  and  his  wife  again  interchanged  a  meaning 
look.  It  seemed  as  though  they  were  both  inspired  at  the 


2 HE  CO  UNT  OF  MONTE  ORI8TO.  513 

same  time  with  some  horrible  thought.  '  Well,  then,  a 
good  journey  to  you/  said  Caderousse. 

"  'Thank  ye/  replied  the  jeweler. 

"  He  then  took  his  cane,  which  he  had  placed  against  an 
old  cupboard,  arid  went  out.  At  the  moment  when  he 
opened  the  door,  such  a  gust  of  wind  came  in  that  the 


lamp  was  nearly  extinguished/ 
"'Oh!'  said   he,  'this  if 


is  very  nice  weather ;  and  two 
leagues  to  go  in  such  a  storm!' 

" '  Remain/  said  Cadarouse.     *  You  can  sleep  here/ 

"'Yes;  do  stay/ added  La  Carconte,  in  a  trembling 
voice;  '  we  will  take  every  care  of  you/ 

" '  No ;  I  must  sleep  at  Beaucaire.  So,  once  more, 
good-night!' 

"Caderousse  followed  him  slowly  to  the  threshold. 

"  '  I  can  neither  see  heaven  nor  earth!'  said  the  jeweler, 
who  was  outside  the  door.  '  Do  I  turn  to  the  right  or  to 
the  left  hand?'" 

" '  To  the  right/  said  Caderousse.  '  You  cannot  go 
wrong — the  road  is  bordered  by  trees  on  both  sides.' 

"  '  Good — all  right!'  said  a  voice,  almost  lost  in  the  dis- 
tance. 

'"Close  the  door/ said  La  Carconte;  'I  do  not  like 
open  doors  when  it  thunders/ 

"  'Particularly  when  there  is  money  in  the  house,  eh?' 
answered  Caderousse,  double-locking  the  door. 

"  '  He  came  into  the  room,  went  to  the  cupboard,  took 
out  the  bag  and  pocket-book,  and  both  began,  for  the 
third  time,  to  count  their  gold  and  bank-notes.  I  never 
saw  such  an  expression  of  cupidity  as  the  flickering  lamp 
revealed  in  the  two  countenances.  The  woman,  especially, 
was  hideous;  the  feverish  tremulousness  she  usually  had 
was  redoubled;  her  countenance  had  become  livid,  and  her 
eyes  resembled  burning  coals. 

"  '  Why/  she  inquired  in  a  hoarse  voice,  *  did  you  invite 
him  to  sleep  here  to-night?' 

"'Why?'  said  Caderousse,  with  a  shudder;  'why,  that 
he  might  not  have  the  trouble  of  returning  to  Beaucaire/ 

"'Ah!'  responded  the  woman,  with  an  expression  im- 
possible to  render;  '  I  thought  it  was  for  something  else/ 

"  'Woman,  woman — why  do  you  have  such  ideas?'  cried 
Caderousse;  'or,  if  you  have  them,  why  don't  you  keep 
them  to  yourself?' 


514  THE  CO  UNT  OF  MONTE  CRI8TO. 

" '  Well/  said  La  Carconte,  after  a  moment's  pause, 
'you  are  not  a  man!' 

"  '  What  do  you  mean?'  added  Caderousse. 

" '  If  you  had  been  a  man,  you  would  not  have  let  him 
go  from  here.' 

"  <  Woman!' 

"  '  Or  else  he  should  not  have  reached  Beaucaire.' 

<"  Woman!' 

"  4  The  road  takes  a  turn — he  is  obliged  to  follow  it — 
while  alongside  of  the  canal  there  is  a  shorter  road.' 

"  '  Woman!  you  offend  the  bon  Dieu  !     There!  listen!' 

And  at  this  moment  there  was  heard  a  tremendous  peal 
of  thunder,  while  the  livid  lightning  illumined  the  room; 
and  the  thunder  then  rolling  away  to  a  distance,  seemed  as 
though  it  left  the  cursed  abode  lingering. 

"  '  Mercy!'  said  Caderousse,  crossing  himself. 

"  At  the  same  moment,  and  in  the  midst  of  the  silence 
so  full  of  terror  which  usually  follows  claps  of  thunder, 
they  heard  a  knocking  at  the  door.  Caderousse  and  his 
wife  started  and  looked  aghast  at  each  other. 

"'Who's  there?'  cried  Caderousse,  rising,  and  drawing 
up  in  a  heap  the  gold  and  notes  scattered  over  the  table, 
and  which  he  covered  with  his  two  hands. 

"  '  It  is  I,'  shouted  a  voice. 

"  '  And  who  are  you?' 

"  'Eh,  pardieu!  Joannes,  the  jeweler.' 

" '  Well,  and  you  said  I  offended  the  bon  Dieu,'  said 
Carconte,  with  a  horrid  smile. 

"  '  Why,  it  is  the  bon  Dieu  who  sends  him  back  again.* 

"  Caderousse  fell  back,  pale  and  breathless  in  his  chair. 

"  La  Carconte,  on  the  contrary,  rose,  and  going  with  a 
firm  step  toward  the  door,  opened  it,  saying,  as  he  did  so: 

"  'Come  in,  dear  M.  Joannes.' 

"'Ma  foil'  said  the  jeweler,  drenched  with  rain,  'it 
seems  as  if  I  was  not  to  return  to  Beaucaire  to- 
night. The  shortest  follies  are  best,  my  dear  Caderousse. 
You  offered  me  hospitality,  and  I  accept  it;  and  have  re- 
turned to  sleep  beneath  your  friendly  roof.' 

"  Caderousse  stammered  out  some  words,  while  he  wiped 
away  the  damp  that  started  to  his  brow.  La  Carcoute 
double-locked  the  door  behind  the  jeweller. 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  GRI8TO.  515 

CHAPTER  XLV. 

THE    RAIX    OF  BLOOD. 

"As  THE  jeweler  returned  to  the  apartment  he  cast 
around  him  a  scrutinizing  glance — but  there  was  nothing 
to  excite  suspicion,  if  it  existed  not,  or  to  confirm  it,  5 
already  awakened.  Caderousse's  hands  still  grasped  his 
gold  and  bank-notes,  and  La  Carconte  called  up  her 
sweetest  smiles  while  welcoming  the  reappearance  of  their 
guest. 

"'Heyday!'  said  the  jeweler,  'you  seem,  my  good 
friends,  to  have  had  some  fears  respecting  the  accuracy  of 
your  money  by  counting  it  over  so  carefully  directly  I  was 
gone/ 

"  '  No,  no,'  answered  Caderousse,  '  that  was  not  my  rea- 
son, I  can  assure  you;  but  the  circumstances  by  which  we 
have  become  possessed  of  this  wealth  are  so  unexpected  as 
to  make  us  scarcely  credit  our  good  fortune,  and  it  is  only 
by  placing  the  actual  proof  of  our  riches  before  our  eyes 
that  we  can  persuade  ourselves  the  whole  affair  is  not  a 
dream.' 

"  The  jeweler  smiled. 

" '  Have  you  any  other  guests  in  your  house?'  in- 
quired he. 

"  '  Nobody  but  ourselves,'  replied  Caderousse;  '  the  fact 
is,  we  do  not  lodge  travelers — indeed,  our  auberge  is  so 
near  to  the  town  that  nobody  would  think  of  stopping 
here.' 

"  '  Then  I  am  afraid  I  shall  very  much  inconvenience 
you !' 

"  '  Oh,  dear  me,  no!  indeed,  good  sir,  you  will  not,'  said 
La  Carconte,  in  her  most  gracious  manner.  *  I  vow  and 
protest  your  passing  the  night  under  shelter  of  our  poor 
roof  will  not  make  the  slightest  difference  in  the  world 
to  us.' 

"  '  But  where  will  you  manage  to  stow  me?' 

"  '  In  the  chamber  overhead.' 

"  (  Surely  that  is  where  you  yourselves  sleep?' 

"  '  Never  mind  that;  we  have  a  second  bed  in  the  ad- 
joining room. 

"Caderousse  stared  at  his  wife  witli  much  astonishment. 


516  THE  CO  UNT  OF  MONTE  CRI8TO. 

The  jeweler,  meanwhile,  was  humming  a  song  as  he  stood 
warming  himself  by  the  bright,  cheering  blaze  of  a  large 
fagot  kindled  by  the  attentive  Carconte  to  dry  the  wet 
garments  of  her  guest;  and  this  done,  she  next  occupied 
herself  in  arranging  his  supper  by  spreading  a  napkin  at 
the  end  of  the  table  and  placing  on  it  the  slender  remains 
of  their  dinner,  to  which  she  added  three  or  four  fresh-laid 
eggs.  Caderousse  had  once  more  parted  with  his  treasures 
the  bank-notes  were  replaced  in  the  pocket-book,  the  gold 
put  back  into  the  bag  and  the  whole  carefully  locked  in 
the  armoire,  which  formed  his  stronghold;  he  then  com- 
menced pacing  the  room  with  a  pensive  and  gloomy  air, 
glancing  from  time  to  time  at  the  jeweler,  who  stood  reek- 
ing with  the  steam  from  his  wet  clothes,  and  merely 
changing  his  place  on  the  warm  hearth,  to  enable  the 
whole  of  the  garments  to  be  in  turn  dried  by  the  genial 
heat  that  issued  from  it. 

"  '  Now,  then,  my  dear  sir,'  said  La  Carconte,  as  she 
placed  a  bottle  of  wine  on  the  table,  '  supper  is  ready 
whenever  you  are  inclined  to  partake  of  it.' 

"  '  But  you  are  going  to  sit  down  with  me,  are  you  not?' 
asked  Joannes. 

'"I  shall  not  take  any  supper  to-night/  said  Caderousse. 

"  '  We  dined  so  very  late/ hastily  interposed  La  Carconte. 

"  '  Then  it  seems  I  am  to  eat  alone/  remarked  the 
jeweler. 

"  '  Oh,  we  shall  have  the  pleasure  of  waiting  upon  you,' 
answered  La  Carconte,  with  an  eager  attention  she  was  not 
accustomed  to  manifest  even  to  guests  who  paid  for  what 
they  took. 

"  From  one  minute  to  another  Caderousse  darted  on  his 
wife  keen,  searching  glances,  but  rapid  as  the  lightning 
flashed.  The  storm  still  continued. 

"  '  There!  there!'  said  La  Carcoute;  "  do  you  hear  that? 
Upon  my  word,  you  did  well  to  return  hither.' 

"  '  Nevertheless,'  replied  the  jeweler,  '  if  by  the  time  I 
have  finished  my  supper  the  tempest  has  at  all  abated  I 
shall  make  another  attempt  to  complete  my  journey.' 

"  '  Oh/  said  Caderousse,  shaking  his  head,  •'  there  is  not 
the  slightest  chance  of  its  abating — it  is  the  mistral,  and 
that  will  be  sure  to  last  till  to-morrow  morning.' 

He  then  sighed  heavily. 

"  '  Well!'  said  the  jeweler,  as  he  placed  himself  at  table, 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO.  517 

'  all  I  can  say  is,  so  much  the  worse  for  those  who  are 
abroad  and  cannot  obtain  a  shelter/ 

" '  Ah!'  chimed  in  La  Carconte,  '  they  will  have  a 
wretched  night  of  it,  be  they  who  they  may/ 

"  The  jeweler  commenced  eating  his  supper,  and  the 
woman,  who  was  ordinarily  so  querulous  and  indifferent  to 
all  who  approached  her,  was  suddenly  transformed  into 
the  most  smiling  and  attentive  hostess.  Had  the  unhappy 
man  on  whom  she  lavished  her  assiduities  been  previously 
acquainted  with  her,  so  sudden  an  alteration  might  well 
have  excited  suspicion  in  his  mind,  or  at  least  have  greatly 
astonished  him.  Caderousse,  meanwhile,  continued  in 
gloomy  silence  to  pace  the  room,  sedulously  avoiding  the 
sight  of  his  guest;  but  as  soon  as  the  stranger  had  com- 
pleted his  repast,  the  agitated  aubergiste  went  eagerly  to 
the  door  and  opened  it. 

"  '  The  storm  seems  over/  said  he. 

"  But  as  if  to  contradict  his  statement,  at  that  instant  a 
violent  clap  of  thunder  seemed  to  shake  the  house  to  its 
very  foundation,  while  a  sudden  gust  of  wind,  mingled 
with  rain,  extinguished  the  lamp  he  held  in  his  hand. 
Trembling  and  awe-struck,  Caderousse  hastily  shut  the 
door  and  returned  to  his  guest,  while  La  Carconte  lighted 
a  candle  by  the  smouldering  ashes  that  glimmered  on  the 
hearth. 

"  '  You  must  be  tired/  said  she  to  the  jeweler;  '  I  have 
spread  a  pair  of  my  finest  and  whitest  sheets  on  your  bed, 
so  you  have  nothing  to  do  but  to  sleep  as  soundly  as  I  wish 
you  may — you  can  easily  find  your  room;  it  is  exactly  over 
this/ 

"  Joannes  remained  a  short  time  listening  whether  the 
storm  seemed  to  abate  in  its  fury,  but  a  brief  space  of  time 
sufficed  to  assure  him  that,  far  from  diminishing,  the 
violence  of  the  rain  and  thunder  momentarily  increased; 
resigning  himself,  therefore,  to  what  seemed  inevitable,  he 
bade  his  host  good -night  and  mounted  to  his  sleeping 
apartment.  As  he  passed  over  my  head  the  flooring  seemed 
to  creak  beneath  his  tread,  proving  how  slight  must  be  the 
division  between  us.  The  quick,  eager  glance  of  La  Car- 
conte followed  him  as  he  ascended  the  staircase,  while 
Caderousse,  on  the  contrary,  turned  his  back,  and  seemed 
most  anxiously  to  avoid  even  glancing  at  him. 

"  All  these  particulars  did  not  strike  me  as  painfully  at 


518  THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRI8TO. 

the  time  as  they  have  since  done;  in  fact,  all  that  had  hap- 
pened (with  the  exception  of  the  story  of  the  diamond, 
which  certainly  did  wear  an  air  of  improbability),  ap- 
peared natural  enough  and  called  for  neither  apprehension 
nor  mistrust;  but,  worn  ont  as  I  was  with  fatigue,  and 
fully  purposing  to  proceed  onward  directly  the  tempest 
abated,  I  determined  to  take  advantage  of  the  comparative 
silence  and  tranquility  that  prevailed  to  obtain  the  refresh- 
ment of  a  few  hours*  sleep.  Overhead  I  could  accurately 
distinguish  every  movement  of  the  jeweler,  who,  after 
making  the  best  arrangements  in  his  power  for  passing  a 
comfortable  night,  threw  himself  on  his  bed,  and  I  could 
hear  it  creak  and  groan  beneath  his  weight.  Insensibly  my 
eyelids  grew  heavy,  deep  sleep  stole  over  me,  and  having  no 
suspicion  of  anything  wrong,  I  sought  not  to  shake  it  off.  For 
the  last  time  I  looked  in  upon  the  room  where  Caderousse 
and  his  wife  were  sitting;  the  former  was  seated  upon  one 
of  those  low  wooden  stools  which  in  country  places  are  fre- 
quently used  instead  of  chairs;  his  back  being  turned 
toward  me,  prevented  me  from  seeing  the  expression  of  his 
countenance — neither  should  I  have  been  able  to  do  so 
had  he  been  placed  differently,  as  his  head  was  buried 
between  his  two  hands.  La  Carconte  continued  to  gaze  on 
him  for  some  time  in  contemptuous  silence,  then,  shrug- 
ging up  her  shoulders,  she  took  her  seat  immediately  oppo- 
site to  him.  At  this  moment  the  expiring  embers  threw 
up  a  fresh  flame  from  the  kindling  of  a  piece  of  wood  that 
lay  near,  and  a  bright  gleam  was  thrown  on  the  scene  and 
the  actors  in  it.  La  Carconte  still  kept  her  eyes  fixed  on 
her  husband,  but  as  he  made  no  sign  of  changing  his  posi- 
tion, she  extended  her  hard,  bony  hand  and  touched  him 
on  the  forehead. 

"  Caderousse  shuddered.  The  woman's  lips  seemed  to 
move,  as  though  she  were  talking;  but  whether  she  merely 
spoke  in  an  undertone,  or  that  my  senses  were  dulled  by 
sleep,  I  did  not  catch  a  word  she  uttered.  Confused  sights 
and  sounds  seemed  to  float  before  me,  and  gradually  I  fell 
into  a  deep,  heavy  sleep.  How  long  I  had  been  in  this 
unconscious  state  I  know  not,  when  I  was  suddenly  aroused 
by  the  report  of  a  pistol,  followed  by  a  fearful  cry.  Weak 
and  tottering  footsteps  resounded  across  the  chamber  above 
me,  and  the  next  instant  a  dull,  heavy  weight  seemed  to 
fall  powerless  on  the  staircase.  I  had  not  yet  fully  recov- 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRI8TO.  519 

ered  my  recollection,  when  again  I  heard  groans,  mingled 
with  half-stifled  cries,  as  if  from  persons  engaged  in  a 
deadly  struggle.  These  evidences  of  the  perpetration  of 
some  violent  deed  effectually  roused  me  from  my  drowsy 
lethargy.  Hastily  raising  myself  on  one  arm,  I  looked 
around,  but  all  was  dark;  and  it  seemed  to  me  as  if  the 
rain  must  have  penetrated  through  the  flooring  of  the  room 
above,  for  some  kind  of  moisture  appeared  to  fall,  drop  by 
drop,  upon  my  forehead,  and  when  I  passed  my  hand 
across  my  brow  I  felt  it  wet  and  clammy. 

"  To  the  fearful  noises  that  had  awakened  me  succeeded 
the  most  perfect  silence — unbroken  save  by  the  footsteps 
of  a  man  walking  about  in  the  chamber  above.  By  the 
creaking  of  the  staircase  I  judged  the  individual,  whoever 
he  was,  was  proceeding  to  the  lower  apartment.  In  another 
minute  I  heard  some  person  moving  there,  and,  looking 
through,  saw  a  man  stooping  toward  the  fire  to  light  a 
candle  he  held  in  his  hand.  As  he  turned  round  I  recog- 
nized the  features  of  Caderousse — pale,  ghastly  and  con- 
vulsed, while  the  front  and  sleeves  of  his  dress  were  cov- 
ered with  blood.  Having  obtained  the  light  he  evidently 
descended  to  seek,  he  hurried  upstairs  again,  and  once 
more  I  heard  his  rapid  and  uneasy  step  in  the  chamber 
above,  Ere  long  he  came  below,  holding  In  his  hand  the 
small  shagreen  case,  which  he  opened  to  assure  himself  it 
contained  the  diamond,  seemed  to  hesitate  as  to  which 
pocket  he  should  put  it  in;  then,  as  if  dissatisfied  with  the 
security  of  either  pocket,  he  deposited  it  in  his  red 
handkerchief,  which  he  carefully  rolled  round  his  head. 
After  this  he  took  from  his  cupboard  the  bank-notes  and 
gold  he  had  put  there,  thrust  the  one  into  the  pocket  of 
his  trousers  and  the  other  into  that  of  his  waistcoat, 
hastily  tied  up  a  small  bundle  of  linen,  and,  rushing 
toward  the  door,  disappeared  in  the  darkness  of  the  night. 

"  Then  all  became  clear  and  manifest  to  me,  and  I  re- 
proached myself  with  what  had  happened,  as  though  I 
myself  had  done  the  guilty  deed.  I  fancied  that  I  still 
heard  faint  moans;  and,  imagining  that  the  unfortunate 
jeweler  might  not  be  quite  dead,  I  determined  to  go  to  his 
relief  by  way  of  atoning  in  some  slight  degree,  not  for  the 
crime  I  had  committed,  but  for  that  which  I  had  not  en- 
deavored to  prevent.  For  this  purpose  1  applied  all  the 
strength  I  possessed  to  force  an  entrance  from  the  cramped 


520  THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRI8TO. 

spot  in  which  I  lay  to  the  adjoining  room;  the  badly- 
arranged  planks  which  alone  divided  me  from  it  yielded  to  my 
efforts,  and  I  found  myself  in  the  house.  Hastily  snatching 
np  the  lighted  candle,  I  hurried  to  the  staircase  toward 
the  middle  of  it  I  stumbled  over  a  human  body  lying  quite 
across  the  stairs.  As  I  stooped  to  raise  it,  I  discovered  in 
the  agonized  features  those  of  La  Carconte.  The  pistol  I 
had  heard  had  doubtless  been  discharged  at  the  unfor- 
tunate woman,  whose  throat  it  had  frightfully  lacerated, 
leaving  a  gaping  wound  from  which,  as  well  as  the  mouth, 
the  blood  was  welling  in  sanguinary  streams.  Finding  the 
miserable  creature  past  all  human  aid.  I  strode  past  her 
and  ascended  to  the  sleeping  chamber,  which  presented  an 
appearance  of  the  wildest  disorder.  The  furniture  had 
been  knocked  over  in  the  deadly  struggle  that  had  taken 
place  there,  and  the  sheets,  to  which  the  unfortunate 
jeweler  had  doubtless  clung,  were  dragged  across  the  room. 
The  murdered  man  lay  on  the  floor,  his  head  leaning 
against  the  wall,  weltering  in  a  gory  stream  poured  forth 
from  three  large  wounds  in  his  breast.  There  was  a  fourth 
gash,  but  the  blood  was  prevented  escaping  in  consequence 
of  the  weapon— '-&  large  table-knife — still  sticking  in  it. 

"  I  stumbled  over  some  object.  I  stooped  to  examine. 
It  was  the  second  pistol,  which  had  not  gone  off  probably 
from  the  powder  being  wet.  I  approached  the  jeweler, 
who  was  not  quite  dead ;  and,  at  the  sound  of  my  footsteps, 
causing  as  they  did  the  creaking  of  the  floor,  he  opened 
his  eyes,  fixed  them  on  me  with  an  anxious  and  inquiring 
gaze,  moved  his  lips  as  though  trying  to  speak;  then,  over- 
come by  the  effort,  fell  back  and  expired.  This  appalling 
sight  almost  bereft  me  of  my  senses,  and  finding  that  I 
could  no  longer  be  of  service  to  any  one  in  the  house,  my 
only  desire  was  to  fly  from  such  an  accumulation  of  horrors 
as  quickly  as  I  could.  Almost  distracted,  I  rushed  toward 
the  staircase  clasping  my  burning  temples  with  both 
hands  and  uttering  cries  of  horror.  Upon  reaching  the 
room  below,  I  found  five  or  six  custom-house  officers,  ac- 
companied by  an  armed  troop  of  soldiery,  who  immediately 
seized  me  ere,  indeed,  I  had  sufficiently  collected  my  ideas 
to  offer  any  resistance.  In  truth,  my  senses  seemed  to 
have  wholly  forsaken  me,  and  when  I  strove  to  speak,  a 
few  inarticulate  sounds  alone  escaped  my  lips. 

"  As  I  noticed  the  significant  manner  "in  which  the  whole 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CR1STO.  521 

party  pointed  to  my  blood-stained  garments,  I  involuntarily 
surveyed  myself,  and  then  I  discovered  that  the  thick 
warm  drops  that  had  so  bedewed  me  as  I  lay  beneath  the 
staircase  must  have  been  the  blood  of  La  Oarconte.  Para- 
lysed with  horror,  I  could  barely  indicate  by  a  movement 
of  my  hand  the  spot  where  I  had  concealed  myself. 

"  '  What  does  he  mean?'  asked  a  gendarme. 

"One  of  the  douaniers  went  to  the  place  I  directed. 

"  '  He  means/  replied  the  man  on  his  return,  '  that  he 
effected  his  entrance  by  means  of  this  hole/  showing  the 
place  where  I  had  broken  my  way  through  the  planks  into 
the  house. 

"  Then,  and  not  before,  the  true  nature  of  my  situation 
flashed  on  me,  and  I  saw  that  I  was  considered  the  guilty 
author  of  all  that  had  occurred  ;  with  this  frightful  con- 
viction of  my  danger,  I  recovered  force  and  energy  enough 
to  free  myself  from  the  hands  of  those  that  held  me,  while 
I  managed  to  stammer  forth: 

"  '  I  did  not  do  it !     Indeed,  indeed  I  did  not  !' 

"A  couple  of  gendarmes  held  the  muzzles  of  their  car- 
bines against  my  breast. 

"  '  Stir  but  a  step/  said  they,  'and  you  are  a  dead  man  !' 

" «  Why  should  you  threaten  me  with  death/  cried  I, 
f  when  I  have  already  declared  my  innocence  ?' 

"  '  Tush,  tush  !'  cried  the  men  ;  '  keep  your  innocent 
stories  to  tell  to  the  judge  at  Nimes.  Meanwhile,  come 
along  with  us;  and  the  best  advice  we  can  give  you  is  to 
do  so  unresistingly.' 

Alas  resistance  was  far  from  my  thoughts.  I  was  utterly 
overpowered  by  surprise  and  terror;  and  without  a  word  I 
suffered  myself  to  be  handcuffed  and  tied  to  a  horse's  tail, 
in  which  plight  I  arrived  at  Nimes. 

"  It  seems  I  had  been  tracked  by  a  douanier,  who  had 
lost  sight  of  me  near  the  auberge;  feeling  assured  that  I 
intended  to  pass  the  night  there,  he  had  returned  to  sum- 
mon his  comrades,  who  just  arrived  in  time  to  hear  the 
report  of  the  pistol,  and  to  take  me  in  the  midst  of  such 
circumstantial  proofs  of  my  guilt  as  rendered  all  hopes  of 
proving  my  innocence  utterly  at  an  end.  One  only 
chance  was  left  me,  that  of  beseeching  the  magistrate 
before  whom  I  was  taken  to  cause  every  inquiry  to  be  made 
for  an  individual  named  the  Abb6  Busoni,  who  had 
stopped  at  auberge  of  the  Pont  du  Gard  on  the  morning 


522  THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  URISTO. 

previous  to  the  murder.  If,  indeed,  Caderousse  had  in- 
vented the  story  relative  to  the  diamond,  and  there  ex- 
isted no  such  person  as  the  Abbe  Busoni,  then,  indeed,  I 
was  lost  past  redemption,  or  at  least  my  life  hung  upon  the 
feeble  chance  of  Caderousse  himself  being  apprehended  and 
confessing  the  whole  truth.  Two  months  passed  away 
in  hopeless  expectation  on  my  part,  while  I  must  do  the 
magistrate  justice  by  declaring  he  used  every  means  to 
obtain  information  of  the  person  I  declared  could  excul- 
pate me  if  he  would.  Caderousse  still  evaded  all  pursuit, 
and  I  had  resigned  myself  to  what  seemed  my  inevitable 
fate.  My  trial  was  to  come  on  at  the  approaching  sessions; 
when,  on  the  8th  of  September — that  is  to  say,  precisely 
three  months  and  five  days  after  the  events  which  had 
periled  my  life — the  Abbe  Busoni,  whom  I  never  ventured 
to  believe  I  should  see,  presented  himself  at  the  prison 
doors,  saying  he  understood  one  of  the  prisoners  wished  to 
speak  to  him;  he  added;  that  having  learned  the  particu- 
lars of  my  imprisonment,  he  hastened  to  comply  with  my 
desire.  You  may  easily  imagine  with  what  eagerness  I  wel- 
comed him,  and  how  minutely  I  related  the  whole  of  what 
I  had  seen  and  heard.  I  felt  some  degree  of  nervousness 
as  I  entered  upon  the  history  of  the  diamond  ;  but,  to  my 
inexpressible  astonishment,  he  confirmed  it  in  every  par- 
ticular, and,  to  my  equal  surprise,  he  seemed  to  place 
entire  belief  in  all  I  stated.  And  then  it  was  that,  won  by 
his  mild  charity,  perceiving  him  acquainted  with  all  the 
habits  and  customs  of  my  own  country,  and  considering  also 
.that  pardon  for  the  only  crime  of  which  I  was  really  guilty 
might  come  with  a  double  power  from  lips  so  benevolent 
and  kind,  I  besought  him  to  receive  my  confession,  under 
the  seal  of  which  I  recounted  the  affair  of  Anteuil  in  all  its 
details,  as  well  as  every  other  transaction  of  my  life.  That 
which  I  had  done  by  the  impulse  of  my  best  feelings  pro- 
duced the  same  effect  as  though  it  had  been  the  result  of 
calculation.  My  voluntary  confession  of  the  assassination 
at  Auteuil  proved  to  him  that  I  had  not  committed  that 
which  I  stood  accused.  When  he  quitted  me  he  bade  me 
be  of  good  courage,  and  rely  upon  his  doing  all  in  his 
power  to  convince  my  judges  of  my  innocence. 

"  I  had  speedy  proofs  that  the  excellent  abbe  was  en- 
gaged in  my  behalf,  for  the  rigors  of  my  imprisonment 
were  alleviated  by  many  trifling,  though  acceptable  indul- 


THE  CO  UNT  OF  MON TE  CRISTO  523 

gences;  and  I  was  told  that  my  trial  was  to  be  postponed 
to  the  assizes  following  those  now  being  held.  In  the  in- 
terim it  pleased  Providence  to  cause  the  apprehension  of 
Caderousse,  who  was  discovered  in  some  distant  country 
and  brought  back  to  France,  where  he  made  a  full  con- 
fession, refusing  to  make  the  fact  of  his  wife's  having  sug- 
gested and  arranged  the  murder  any  excuse  for  his  own 
guilt.  The  wretched  man  was  sentenced  to  the  galleys  for 
life,  and  I  was  immediately  set  at  liberty." 

"And  then  it  was,  I  presume,"  said  Monte  Cristo,  "that 
you  came  to  me  as  the  bearer  of  a  letter  from  the  Abb6 
Busoni  ?" 

"It  was,  your  excllency;  the  benevolent  abb6  took  an 
evident  interest  in  all  that  concerned  me." 

"'Your  mode  of  life  as  a  smuggler/  said  he  to  me  one 
day,  ' will  be  the  ruin  of  you  if  you  persist  in  it;  let  me 
advise  you  when  you  get  out  of  prison  to  choose  something 
more  safe  as  well  as  respectable.' 

"  '  But  how/  inquired  I,  'am  I  to  maintain  myself  and 
my  poor  sister?' 

"/A  person,  whose  confessor  I  am/ replied  he,  'and 
who  entertains  a  high  regard  for  me,  applied  to  me  a  short 
time  since  to  procure  him  a  confidential  servant.  Would 
you  like  such  a  post?  If  so,  I  will  give  you  a  letter  of 
introduction  to  the  friend  I  allude  to. 

"  'With  thankfulness  shall  I  profit  by  your  permitting 
me  to  wait  upon  the  gentleman  you  speak  of.' 

"  'One  thing  you  must  do;  swear  solemnly  that  I  shall 
never  have  reason  to  repent  my  recommendation.'  I  ex- 
tended my  hand,  and  was  about  to  pledge  myself  by  any 
promise  he  would  dictate,  but  he  stopped  me.  '  It  .is  un- 
necessary for  you  to  bind  yourself  by  any  vow/  said  he; 
'I  know  and  admire  the  Corsican  nature  too  well  to  fear 
you!  Here,  take  this/  continued  he,  after  rapidly  writing 
the  few  lines  I  brought  to  your  excellency,  and  upon  re- 
ceipt of  which  you  deigned  to  receive  me  into  you  service, 
and  I  venture  most  respectfully  and  humbly  to  ask  whether 
your  excellency  has  ever  had  cause  to  repent  having 
done  so?" 

"  On  the  contrary,  Bertuccio,  I  have  ever  found  you 
faithful,  honest  and  deserving.  One  fault  I  find  with 
you,  and  that  is,  your  not  having  placed  sufficient  confi- 
dence in  me." 


524  THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRI8TO. 

"Indeed,  your  excellency,  I  know  not  what  you  mean!" 

"  Simply  this;  how  comes  it,  that  having  both  a  sister 
and  an  adopted  son,  you  have  never  spoken  to  me  of 
either?" 

"  Alas !  I  have  still  to  recount  the  most  distressing 
period  of  my  life.  Anxious  as  you  may  suppose  I  was  to 
behold  and  comfort  my  clear  sister,  I  lost  no  time  in  hasten- 
ing to  Corsica,  but  when  I  arrived  at  Kogliano  I  found  a 
house  of  mourning  and  of  desolation,  the  consequences  of 
a  scene  so  horrible  that  the  neighbors  remember  and  speak 
of  it  to  this  day.  Acting  by  my  advice,  my  poor  sister  had 
refused  to  comply  witli  the  unreasonable  demands  of  Bene- 
detto, who  was  continually  tormenting  her  for  money,  as 
long  as  he  believed  there  was  a  sou  left  in  her  possession. 
One  morning  that  he  had  demanded  money,  threatening  her 
with  the  severest  consequences  if  she  did  not  supply  him 
with  what  he  desired,  he  disappeared  throughout  the  whole 
of  the  day,  leaving  the  kind-hearted  Assunta,  who  loved 
him  as  if  he  were  her  own  child,  to  weep  over  his  conduct 
and  bewail  his  absence.  Evening  came,  and  still,  with  all 
the  patient  solicitude  of  a  mother,  she  watched  for  his 
return. 

"As  the  eleventh  hour  struck  he  entered  with  a  swag- 
gering air,  attended  by  two  of  the  most  dissolute  and  reck- 
less of  his  ordinary  companions.  As  poor  Assunta  rose  to 
clasp  her  truant  in  her  arms,  forgetting  all  but  the  happi- 
ness of  seeing  him  again,  she  was  seized  upon  by  three 
ruffians,  while  the  unnatural  Benedetto  exclaimed: 

" '  Come,  if  the  old  girl  refuses  to  tell  us  where  she 
keeps  her  money,  let  us  just  give  her  a  taste  of  the  torture; 
that  will  make  her  find  her  tongue,  I'll  engage/ 

"It  unfortunately  happened  that  our  neighbor,  Wasilio, 
was  at  Bastia,  leaving  no  person  in  his  house  but  his  wife; 
no  human  creature  except  she  could  hear  or  see  anything 
that  took  place  within  our  dwelling.  Two  of  the  brutal 
companions  of  Benedetto  held  poor  Assunta,  who,  unable 
to  conceive  that  any  harm  was  intended  to  her,  smiled  in- 
nocently and  kindly  in  the  face  of  those  who  were  soon  to 
become  her  executioneers,  while  the  third  ruffian  pro- 
ceeded to  barricade  the  doors  and  windows;  then  return- 
ing to  his  infamous  accomplices,  the  three  united  in  stifling 
the  cries  uttered  by  the  poor  victim  at  the  sight  of  these 
alarming  preparations.  This  effected,  they  dragged  the 


THE  CO  TINT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO.  525 

unoffending  object  of  their  barbarity  toward  the  fire,  on 
which  they  forcibly  held  her  feet,  expecting  by  this 
diabolical  expedient  to  wring  from  her  where  her  supposed 
treasure  was  secreted.  In  the  struggles  made  by  my  poor 
sister  her  clothes  caught  fire,  and  her  fiendish  and  cowardly 
tormentors  were  compelled  to  let  go  their  hold  in  order  to 
preserve  themselves  from  sharing  the  same  fate.  Covered 
with  flames,  Assunta  rushed  wildly  to  the  door,  but  it  was 
fastened ;  tortured  by  the  agony  she  endured,  the  un- 
fortunate sufferer  flew  to  the  windows,  but  they  were  also 
strongly  barricaded ;  then  her  cries  and  shrieks  of  anguish 
filled  the  place;  to  these  succeeded  convulsive  sobs  and 
deep  groans,  which,  subsiding  in  faint  moans,  at  length 
died  away,  and  all  was  still  as  the  grave.  Next  morning, 
as  soon  as  the  wife  of  Wasilio  could  muster  up  courage  to 
venture  abroad,  she  caused  the  door  of  our  dwelling  to  be 
opened  by  the  public  authorities,  when  Assunta,  although 
dreadfully  burned,  was  found  still  breathing  ;  every  drawer 
and  closet  in  the  house  had  been  forced  open,  and  every- 
thing worth  carrying  off  stolen  from  them.  Benedetto 
never  again  appeared  at  Rogliano,  neither  have  I  since  that 
day  either  seen  or  heard  anything  concerning  him. 

"  It  was  subsequently  to  these  dreadful  events  that  I 
waited  on  your  excellency,  to  whom  it  would  have  been 
folly  to  have  mentioned  Benedetto,  since  all  trace  of  him 
seemed  entirely  lost;  or  of  my  sister,  since  she  was 
dead." 

"And  in  what  light  did  you  view  the  tragical  occur- 
rence?" inquired  Monte  Cristo. 

"As  a  punishment  for  the  crime  I  had  committed/' 
answered  Bertuccio.  "Oh,  those  Villeforts  are  an  accursed 
race!" 

"  Truly  they  are,"  murmured  the  count,  with  a  most 
singular  expression  of  countenance. 

"  And  now,"  resumed  Bertuccio,  "  your  excellency 
may,  perhaps,  be  able  to  comprehend  that  this  place, 
which  I  revisit  for  the  first  time — this  garden,  the  positive 
scene  of  my  crime — must  have  given  rise  to  reflections  of 
no  very  agreeable  nature,  and  produced  that  gloom  and 
depression  of  spirits  which  excited  the  notice  of  your  ex- 
cellency, who  was  pleased  to  express  a  desire  to  know  the 
cause.  *  At  this  instant  a  shudder  passes  over  me  as  I  re- 
flect that  possibly  I  am  now  standing  on  the  very  grave  in 
DUMAS— VOL.  I.— 23 


526  THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRI8TO. 

which  lies  M.  de  Villefort,  by  whose  hand  the  ground  was 
dug  to  receive  the  corpse  of  his  child." 

"  It  may  be  so,"  said  Monte  Cristo,  rising  from  the 
bench  on  which  he  had  been  sitting;  "  but,"  added  he,  in  a 
lower  tone,  "  whether  the  procureur  du  roi  be  dead  or  not, 
the  Abbe  Busoni  did  right  to  send  you  to  me,  and  you 
have  also  acted  extremely  properly  in  relating  to  me  the 
whole  of  your  history,  as  it  will  prevent  my  forming  any 
erroneous  opinions  concerning  you  in  future'.  As  for  that 
Benedetto,  who  so  grossly  belied  his  name,  have  you  never 
made  any  effort  to  trace  out  whither  he  has  gone,  or  what 
has  become  of  him?" 

"No  ;  far  from  wishing  to  learn  whither  he  had  betaken 
himself,  I  should  have  shunned  the  possibility  of  meeting 
him  as  I  would  a  wild  beast  or  a  savage  monster.  Thank 
God,  I  have  never  heard  his  name  mentioned  by  any  per- 
son, and  I  hope  and  believe  he  is  dead." 

"  Flatter  not  yourself  that  such  is  the  case,"  replied  the 
count ;  "  an  all-wise  Providence  permits  not  sinners  to 
escape  thus  easily  from  the  punishment  they  have  merited 
on  earth,  but  reserves  them  to  aid  his  own  designs,  using 
them  as  instruments  whereby  to  work  his  vengeance  on  the 
guilty." 

"  I  am  content  to  have  him  live,"  continued  Bertuccio, 
"so  that  he  spares  me  the  misery  of  ever  again  beholding 
him.  "And  now,  M.  le  Comte,"  added  the  steward,  bend- 
ing humbly  forward,  "you  know  every  secret  of  my  life — 
you  are  my  judge  on  earth,  as  the  Almighty  is  in  heaven  ; 
have  you  no  words  of  consolation  to  bestow  on  a  repentant 
sinner?" 

"  My  good  friend,  I  know  of  none  more  calculated  to 
calm  your  mind  than  the  expressions  employed  by  the 
Abb6  Busoni  when  speaking  of  you  to  me.  Villefort,  the 
man  you  killed,  merited  the  punishment  he  received  at 
your  hands,  as  a  just  reward  for  the  wrongs  he  had  done 
you,  and,  it  may  be,  for  other  crimes  likewise.  Benedetto, 
if  still  living,  will  become  the  instrument  of  divine  retri- 
bution in  some  way  or  other,  and  then  be  duly  punished  in 
his  turn.  As  far  as  you  yourself  are  concerned,  I  see  but 
one  point  in  which  you  are  really  guilty.  Ask  yourself, 
wherefore,  after  rescuing  the  infant  from  its  living  grave, 
you  did  not  restore  it  to  its  mother?  There  was  the  crime, 
Bertuccio — that  was  where  you  became  really  culpable." 


THE  CO  UNT  OF  MONTR  CRISTO.  527 

"  True,  my  lord ;  there,  as  you  say,  I  acted  wickedly, 
and,  moreover,  cowardly.  My  first  duty,  directly  I  had 
succeeded  in  recalling  the  babe  to  life,  should  have"  been  to 
have  restored  it  to  its  mother ;  but,  in  order  to  do  so,  I 
must  have  made  close  and  careful  y  inquiry,  which  would, 
in  all  probability,  have  led  to  my  own  apprehension  ;  and 
I  clung  to  life,  partly  on  my  sister's  account,  and  partly 
from  the  feeling  of  pride  inborn  in  our  hearts  of  desiring 
to  come  off  untouched  and  victorious  in  the  execution  of 
our  vengeance.  Perhaps,  too,  the  natural  and  instinctive 
love  of  life  made  me  wish  to  avoid  endangering  my  own. 
And  then,  again,  I  was  not  formed  as  brave  and  courageous 
as  my  poor  brother. " 

Bertuccio  hid  his  face  in  his  hands  as  he  uttered  these 
words,  while  Monte  Cristo  fixed  on  him  a  long  and  inde- 
scribable gaze.  After  a  brief  silence,  rendered  still  more 
solemn  by  the  time  and  place,  the  count  said,  in  a  tone  of 
melancholy,  wholly  unlike  his  usual  manner  : 

"  In  order  to  bring  this  conversation  to  a  befitting  ter- 
mination (as  I  promise  you  never  again  to  revert  to  it),  I 
will  repeat  to  you  some  words  I  have  heard  from  the  lips 
of  the  Abbe  Busoni  himself,  and  which  I  recommend  you 
to  treasure  up  for  your  consolation  ;  that  all  earthly  ill 
yield  to  two  all-potent  remedies — time  and  silence.  And 
now  leave  me ;  I  would  enjoy  the  cool  solitude  of  this 
place.  The  very  circumstances  which  inflict  on  you,  as  a 
principal  in  the  tragic  scene  enacted  here,  such  painful 
emotions,  are  to  me,  on  the  contrary,  a  source  of  extreme 
delight,  and  serve  but  to  enhance  the  value  of  this  dwelling 
in  my  estimation.  The  chief  beauty  of  trees  consists  in 
the  deep  shadow  of  their  umbrageous  boughs,  while  fancy 
pictures  a  moving  multitude  of  shapes  and  forms  flitting  and 
passing  beneath  that  shade.  Here,  I  am  agreeably  sur- 
prised by  the  sight  of  a  garden  laid  out  in  such  a  way  as  to 
afford  the  fullest  scope  for  the  imagination,  and  furnished 
with  thickly-grown  trees,  beneath  which  leafy  screen  a 
visionary  like  myself  may  conjure  up  phantoms  at  will,  and 
revel  in  the  dreamy  reveries  of  his  own  mind.  This  to  me, 
who  expected  but  to  find  a  blank  enclosure  surrounded  by 
a  straight  wall,  is,  I  assure  you,  a  most  agreeable  surprise. 
1  have  no  dread  of  supernatural  things,  and  I  have  never 
heard  it  said  that  so  much  harm  had  been  done  by  the 
dead  during  6,000  years  as  is  wrought  by  the  living  in  one 


528  THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  VRI8TO. 

single  day.  Ketire  within,  Bertuccio,  and  tranquilize  your 
mind.  Should  your  confessor  be  less  indulgent  to  you  in 
your  dying  moments  than  you  found  the  Abbe  Busoni, 
send  for  me,  if  I  am  still  on  earth,  and  I  will  soothe  your 
ears  with  words  that  shall  effectually  calm  and  soothe  your 
parting  soul  ere  it  goes  forth  to  that  '  bourne  from  whence 
no  traveler  returns.'  " 

Bertuccio  bowed  lowly  and  respectfully,  and  turned  away, 
sighing  heavily  as  he  quitted  his  patron.  When  he  had 
quite  disappeared,  Monte  Cristo  arose,  and,  taking  three 
or  four  steps  onward,  he  murmured,  "here,  beneath  this 
plane-tree,  must  have  been  where  the  infant's  grave  was 
dug.  There  is  a  little  door  opening  into  the  garden.  At 
this  corner  is  the  private  staircase  communicating  with  the 
sleeping  apartment.  There  will  be  no  necessity  for  me  to 
make  a  note  of  these  particulars,  for  there,  before  my 
eyes,  beneath  my  feet,  all  around  me,  I  have  the  plan 
sketched  with  all  the  living  reality  of  truth.  After  mak- 
ing the  tour  of  the  garden  a  second  time,  the  count  re- 
gained the  house  and  re-entered  his  carriage;  while  Ber- 
tuccio, who  perceived  the  thoughtful  expression  of  his 
master's  features,  took  his  seat  beside  the  driver  without 
uttering  a  word.  The  carriage  proceeded  rapidly  toward 
Paris. 

That  same  evening,  upon  reaching  his  abode  in  the 
Champs  Elysees,  the  Count  of  Monte  Cristo  went  over 
the  whole  building  with  the  air  of  one  long  acquainted 
with  each  nook  or  corner.  Nor,  although  preceding  the 
party,  did  he  once  mistake  one  door  for  another,  or  com- 
mit the  smallest  error  when  choosing  any  particular  corri- 
dor or  staircase  to  conduct  him  to  a  place  or  suite  of  rooms 
he  desired  to  visit.  AH  was  his  principal  attendant  dur- 
ing the  somewhat  late  hour  of  his  survey.  Having  given 
various  orders  to  Bertuccio  relative  to  the  improvements 
and  alterations  he  desired  to  make  in  the  house,  the 
count,  drawing  out  his  watch,  said  to  the  attentive  Nu- 
bian, "It  is  11:30  o'clock;  Haydee  will  not  belong  ere 
she  arrives.  Have  the  French  attendants  been  summoned 
to  await  her  coming?"  Ali  extended  his  hands  toward 
the  apartments  destined  for  the  fair  Greek,  which  were  at 
a  distance  from  the  habitable  part  of  the  dwelling,  and  so 
effectually  concealed,  by  means  of  a  tapestried  entrance, 
that  it  would  have  puzzled  the  most  curious  to  have  di- 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO.  529 

vined  that  beyond  that  spot  lay  hid  a  suite  of  rooms  fitted 
up  with  a  rich  magnificence  worthy  of  the  lovely  being 
who  was  to  tenant  them.  Ali,  having  pointed  to  the 
apartments,  counted  three  on  the  fingers  of  his  right 
hand,  and  then,  placing  it  beneath  his  head,  shut  his  eyes, 
and  feigned  to  sleep. 

"  I  understand,"  said  Monte  Cristo,  well  acquainted 
with  Ali's  pantomime;  "you  mean  to  tell  me  that  three 
female  attendants  await  their  new  mistress  in  her  sleeping 
chamber." 

Ali,  with  considerable  animation,  made  a  sign  in  the 
affirmative. 

"The  young  lady  must  needs  be  fatigued  with  her  jour- 
ney," continued  Monte  Cristo,  "and  will,  no  doubt,  wish 
to  "retire  to  rest  immediately  upon  her  arrival.  Desire  the 
French  attendants  not  to  weary  her  with  questions,  but 
merely  to  pay  their  respectful  duty  and  retire.  You  will 
also  see  that  the  Greek  servants  hold  no  communication 
with  those  of  this  country." 

Ali  bowed  obediently  and  reverentially.  Just  at  that 
moment  voices  were  heard  hailing  the  concierge.  The 
gate  opened,  a  carriage  rolled  down  the  avenue,  and 
etopped  at  the  flight  of  steps  leading  to  the  house.  The 
count  hastily  descended,  and  presented  himself  at  the 
already  opened  carriage  door  to  assist  a  young  female, 
completely  enveloped  in  a  mantle  of  green  and  gold,  to 
alight.  The  female  raised  the  hand  extended  toward  her 
to  her  lips,  and  kissed  it  with  a  mixture  of  love  and  re- 
spect. Some  few  words  passed  between  them  in  that  so- 
norous language  in  which  Homer  makes  his  gods  converse. 
The  female  spoke  with  an  expression  of  deep  tenderness, 
while  the  count  replied  with  an  air  of  gentle  gravity.  Pre- 
ceded by  Ali,  who  carried  a  rose-colored  flambeau  in  his 
hand,  the  female,  who  was  no  other  than  the  lovely  Greek 
who  had  been  Monte  Cristo's  companion  in  Italy,  was  con- 
ducted to  her  apartments,  while  the  count  retired  to  the 
pavilion  reserved  for  himself.  In  another  hour  every  light 
in  the  house  was  extinguished,  and  it  might  have  been 
thought  that  all  its  inmatea  slept 


530  THK  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRI8TO. 

CHAPTER  XLVI. 

UNLIMITED      CREDIT. 

ABOUT  2  o'clock  the  following  day  a  caleche,  drawn  by 
a  pair  of  magnificent  English  horses,  stopped  at  the  door  of 
Monte  Cristo's  chateau,  and  a  person  dressed  in  a  blue  coat, 
with  buttons  of  a  similar  color,  a  white  waistcoat,  over  which 
was  displayed  a  massive  gold  chain,  brown  trousers,  and  a 
quantity  of  black  hair  descending  so  low  over  his  eyebrows 
as  to  leave  it  doubtful  whether  it  were  not  artificial,  so 
little  did  its  jetty  glossiness  assimilate  with  the  deep 
wrinkles  stamped  on  his  features — a  person,  in  a  word, 
who,  although  evidently  past  50,  desired  to  be  taken  for 
not  more  than  40,  bent  forward  from  the  carriage  door, 
on  the  panels  of  which  were  emblazoned  the  armorial  bear- 
ings of  a  baron,  and  directed  his  groom  to  inquire  at  the 
porter's  lodge  whether  the  Count  of  Monte  Cristo  resided 
there,  and  if  he  were  within.  While  waiting,  the  occu- 
pant of  the  carriage  surveyed  the  house,  the  garden,  so  far 
as  he  could  distinguish  it,  and  the  livery  of  the  servants 
who  passed  to  and  fro,  with  an  attention  so  close  as  to  be 
somewhat  impertinent.  The  glance  of  this  individual  was 
keen,  bat  evincing  rather  cunning  than  intelligence;  his 
lips  were  straight,  and  so  thin  that,  as  they  closed,  they 
were  compressed  within  the  mouth;  his  cheek-bones  were 
broad  and  projecting,  a  never-failing  proof  of  audacity 
and  craftiness;  while  the  flatness  of  his  forehead,  and  the 
enlargement  of  the  back  of  his  skull,  which  rose  much 
higher  than  his  large  and  vulgarly-shaped  ears,  combined 
to  form  a  physiognomy  anything  but  prepossessing;  save  in 
the  eyes  of  such  as  considered  that  the  owner  of  so  splen- 
did an  equipage  must  needs  be  all  that  was  admirable  and 
enviable,  more  especially  when  they  gazed  on  the  enor- 
mous diamond  that  glittered  in  his  shirt,  and  the  red  rib- 
bon that  depended  from  his  button-hole. 

The  groom,  in  obedience  to  his  orders,  tapped  at  the 
window  of  the  porter's  lodge,  saying,  "Pray  does  not  the 
Count  of  Monte  Cristo  live  here?" 

"  His  excellency  does  reside  here,"  replied  the  con- 
cierge; but "  added  he,  glancing  an  inquiring  look  at 

Ali.  Ali  returned  a  sign  in  the  negative. 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRI8TO.  531 

"  But  what?"  asked  the  groom. 

"  His  excellency  does  not  receive  visitors  to-day." 

"Then  take  my  master's  card.  You'll  see  who  master 
is — M.  le  Baron  Danglars!  Be  sure  to  give  the  card  to 
the  count,  and  say  that,  although  in  haste  to  attend  the 
chamber,  my  master  came  out  of  his  way  to  have  the 
honor  of  calling  upon  him." 

"  I  never  speak  to  his  excellency,"  replied  the  concierge, 
"  the  valet-de-chambre  will  carry  your  message." 

The  groom  returned  to  the  carriage  "Well?"  asked 
Dunglars.  The  man,  somewhat  crestfallen  by  the  rebuke 
he  had  received,  detailed  to  his  master  all  that  had  passed 
between  himself  and  the  concierge.  "Bless  me!"  mur- 
mured M.  le  Baron  Danglars,  "this  must  surely  be  a 
prince  instead  of  a  count  by  their  styling  him  ' excellency/ 
and  only  venturing  to  address  him  by  the  medium  of  his 
valet-de-chambre.  However,  it  does  not  signify;  he  lias  a 
letter  of  credit  on  me,  so  I  must  see  him  when  he  requires 
his  money." 

Then,  throwing  himself  back  in  his  carriage,  Danglars 
called  out  to  his  coachman,  in  a  voice  that  might  be  heard 
across  the  road,  "to  the  Chambre  des  Deputes." 

Apprised  in  time  of  the  visit  paid  him,  Monte  Cristo 
had,  from  behind  the  blind  of  his  pavilion,  as  minutely  ob- 
served the  baron  by  means  of  an  excellent  lorgnette  as 
Danglars  himself  had  scrutinized  the  house,  garden  and 
servants.  "  That  fellow  has  a  decidedly  bad  counte- 
nance," said  the  count,  in  a  tone  of  disgust,  as  he  shut 
up  his  glass  into  its  ivory  case.  "  How  comes  it  that  all 
do  not  retreat  in  aversion  at  sight  of  that  flat,  receding, 
serpent-like  forehead,  round,  vultured-shaped  head,  and 
sharp-hooked  nose,  like  the  beak  of  a  buzzard?  Ali!" 
cried  he,  striking  at  the  same  time  on  the  brazen  gong. 
Ali  appeared.  "Summon  Bertuccio!"  said  the  count. 
Almost  immediately  Bertuccio  entered  the  apartment. 

"  Did  your  excellency  desire  to  see  me?"   inquired  he. 

"  I  did,"  replied  the  count.  "You  no  doubt  observed 
the  horses  standing  a  few  minutes  since  at  the  door?" 

"  Certainly,  your  excellency;  I  noticed  them  for  their 
remarkable  beauty." 

"Then  how  comes  it,"  said  Monte  Cristo,  with  a  frown, 
"that,  when  I  desired  you  to  purchase  for  me  the  finest 
pair  of  horses  to  be  found  in  Paris»  you  permitted  so 


532  THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CR18TO. 

splendid  a  couple  as  those  I  allude  to  to  be  in  the  possession 
of  any  one  but  myself  ?" 

At  the  look  of  displeasure,  added  to  the  angry  tone  in 
which  the  count  spoke,  Ali  turned  pale  and  held  down  his 
head.  "It  is  not  your  fault,  my  good  Ali,"  said  the  count 
in  the  Arabic  language,  and  in  a  tone  of  such  gentleness 
as  none  would  have  given  him  credit  for  being  capable  of 
feeling — "it  is  not  your  fault.  You  do  not  profess  to  un- 
derstand the  choice  of  English  horses."  The  countenance 
of  poor  Ali  recovered  its  serenity.  "Permit  me  to  assure 
your  excellency,"  said  Bertuccio,  "that  the  horses  you 
speak  of  were  not  to  be  sold  when  I  purchased  yours." 

Monte  Cristo  shrugged  up  his  shoulders.  "It  seems,  M. 
1'Intendant,"  said  he,  "that  you  have  yet  to  learn  that  all 
things  are  to  be  sold  to  such  as  care  to  pay  the  price." 

"  M.  le  Comte  is  not,  perhaps,  aware  that  M.  Danglars 
gave  16,000  francs  for  his  horses  ?" 

"Very  well  !  then  offer  him  double  that  sum;  a  banker 
never  looses  an  opportunity  of  doubling  his  capital." 

"Is  your  excellency  really  in  earnest  ?"  inquired  the 
steward.  Monte  Cristo  regarded  the  person  who  durst 
presume  to  doubt  his  words  with  the  look  of  one  equally 
surprised  and  displeased. 

"I  have  to  pay  a  visit  this  evening,"  replied  he.  "I  de- 
sire that  these  horses,  with  completely  new  harness,  may 
be  at  the  door  with  my  carriage." 

Bertuccio  bowed,  and  was  about  to  retire;  but  when  he 
reached  the  door,  he  paused,  and  then  said,  "At  what 
o'clock  does  your  excellency  wish  the  carriage  and  horses 
ready  ?" 

"At  5  o'clock,"  replied  the  count. 

"I  beg  your  excellency's  pardon,"  interposed  the  steward, 
in  a  deprecating  manner,  "for  venturing  to  observe  that  it 
is  already  2  o'clock." 

"  I  am  perfectly  aware  of  that  fact,"  answered  Mont* 
Cristo,  calmly.  Then,  turning  toward  Ali,  he  said:  "Let 
all  the  horses  in  my  stables  be  led  before  the  windows  of 
your  young  lady,  that  she  may  select  those  she  prefers  for 
her  carriage.  Bequest  her  also  to  oblige  me  by  saying 
whether  it  is  her  pleasure  to  dine  with  me;  if  so,  let  dinner 
be  served  in  her  apartments.  Now  leave  me,  and  desire 
my  valet-de-chambre  to  come  hither." 

Scarcely  had  Ali  disappeared  when  the  valet  entered  the 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO.  533 

chamber.  "  M.  Baptistin,"  said  the  count,  "you  have 
been  in  my  service  one  year,  the  time  I  generally  give  my- 
self to  judge  of  the  merits  or  demerits  of  those  about  me. 
You  suit  me  very  well." 

Baptistin  bowed  low.  "It  only  remains  for  me  to  know 
whether  I  also  suit  you  ?" 

"  Oh,  M.  le  Cornte  I"  exclaimed  Baptistin,  eagerly. 

"  Listen,  if  you  please,  till  I  have  finished  speaking," 
replied  Monte  Cristo.  "  You  receive  1,500  francs  per 
annum  for  your  services  here — more  than  many  a  brave 
subaltern,  who  continually  risks  his  life  for  his  country, 
obtains.  You  live  in  a  manner  far  superior  to  many  clerks 
and  placemen  who  work  ten  times  harder  than  you  do  for 
their  money,  and  certainly  are  quite  as  faithful  in  the  dis- 
charge of  their  duties  as  you  may  be.  Then,  though  your- 
self a  servant,  you  have  other  servants  to  wait  upon  you, 
take  care  of  your  clothes,  and  see  that  your  linen  is  duly 
prepared  for  you.  Again,  you  make  a  profit  upon  each 
article  you  purchase  for  my  toilette,  amounting  in  the 
course  of  a  year  to  a  sum  equalling  your  wages." 

"Nay,  indeed,  your  excellency." 

"Do  not  interrupt  me,  M.  Baptistin,  I  am  not  enter- 
ing into  these  particulars  with  a  view  to  complain  or  re- 
proach you;  on  the  contrary,  I  see  nothing  unfair  or  unrea- 
sonable in  all  I  have  enumerated;  but  let  your  notions  of 
gain  end  with  the  advantages  you  have  hitherto  possessed. 
You  know,  as  well  as  myself,  that  were  I  to  dismiss  you  it 
would  be  long  indeed  ere  you  would  find  so  lucrative  a  post 
as  that  you  have  now  the  good  fortune  to  fill.  I  neither 
ill-use  nor  ill-treat  my  servants  by  word  or  action.  An 
error  I  readily  forgive,  but  a  willful  negligence  or  forgot- 
fulness  of  my  orders  I  never  look  over,  and  for  that  pur- 
pose I  always  endeavor,  when  issuing  commands,  to  make 
them  as  short  as  they  are  clear  and  precise;  and  I  would 
rather  be  obliged  to  repeat  my  words  twice,  or  even  three 
times,  than  they  should  be  misunderstood.  I  am  rich 
enough  to  become  acquainted  with  whatever  I  desire  to  know, 
and  I  can  promise  you  I  am  not  wanting  in  curiosity.  If, 
then,  I  should  learn  that  you  had  taken  upon  yourself  to 
speak  of  me  to  any  one  favorably  or  unfavorably,  to  com- 
ment on  my  actions,  or  watch  my  conduct,  that  very  in- 
stant you  would  quit  my  service.  You  may  now  retire.  1 
never  caution  my  servants  a  second  time— remember  that. 


534  THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRI8TO. 

You  have  been  duly  admonished,  and  if  the  warning  is 
given  in  vain  you  will  have  nobody  to  blame  but  your- 
self. " 

Again  Baptistin  bowed  reverentially,  and  was  proceed- 
ing toward  the  door  when  the  count  made  him  stay.  "I 
forgot  to  mention  to  you/*  said  he,  "I  lay  yearly  aside  a 
certain  sum  for  each  servant  in  my  establishment;  those 
whom  I  am  compelled  to  dismiss  lose  (as  a  matter  of  course) 
all  participation  in  this  money,  while  their  portion  goes  to 
the  fund  accumulating  for  those  domestics  who  remain 
with  me,  and  among  whom  it  will  be  divided  at  my  death. 
You  have  been  in  my  service  a  year,  your  fortune  has  com- 
menced— do  not  prevent  its  full  accomplishment  by  your 
own  folly." 

This  address,  delivered  in  the  presence  of  AH,  who,  not 
understanding  one  word  of  the  language  in  which  it  was 
spoken,  stood  wholly  unmoved,  produced  an  effect  on  M. 
Baptistin  only  to  be  conceived  by  such  as  have  occasion  to 
study  the  character  and  disposition  of  French  domestics. 
"  I  assure  your  excellency,"  said  he,  "  at  least  it  shall  be 
my  study  to  merit  your  approbation  in  all  things,  and  I 
will  take  M.  Ali  as  my  model." 

"Pray  do  no  such  thing,"  replied  the  count,  in  the  most 
frigid  tone:  "Ali  has  many  faults  mixed  with  most  ex- 
cellent qualities;  he  cannot  possibly  serve  you  as  a  pattern 
for  your  conduct,  not  being  as  you  are,  a  paid  servant,  but 
a  mere  slave — a  dog  !  who,  should  he  fail  in  his  duty  to- 
ward me,  I  should  not  discharge  from  my  service,  but 
kill !" 

Baptistin  opened  his  eyes  with  strong  and  unfeigned  as- 
tonishment. 

"  You  seem  incredulous,"  said  Monte  Cristo,  who  re- 
peated to  Ali  in  the  Arabic  language  what  he  had  just  been 
saying  to  Baptistin  in  French.  The  Nubian  smiled  as- 
sentingly  to  his  master's  words,  then,  kneeling  on  one 
knee,  repectfully  kissed  the  hand  of  the  count.  This  cor- 
roboration  of  the  lesson  he  had  just  received  put  the  finish- 
ing stroke  to  the  wonder  and  stupefaction  of  M.  Baptistin. 
The  count  then  motioned  the  valet-de-chambre  to  retire, 
and  to  Ali  to  follow  himself  into  his  study,  where  they 
conversed  long  and  earnestly  together.  As  the  hand  of 
the  peudule  pointed  to  5  o'clock  the  count  struck  thrice 
upou  his  gong.  When  Ali  was  wanted  one  stroke  was 


THE  CO  UNT  OF  MONTE  URI8TO.  535 

given,  two  summoned  Baptistin,  and  three  Bertuccio.  The 
steward  entered. 

"  My  horses  I"  said  Monte  Cristo. 

"  They  are  at  tlie  door,  harnessed  to  the  carriage,  as 
your  excellency  desired.  Does  M.  le  Comte  .wish  me  to 
accompany  him?" 

"  No,  the  coachman,  Ali,  and  Baptistin  will  be  sufficient 
without  you." 

The  count  descended  to  the  door  of  his  mansion  and  be- 
held his  carriage,  drawn  by  the  very  pair  of  horses  he  had 
BO  much  admired  in  the  morning  as  the  property  of  Dang- 
lars.  As  he  passed  them  he  said: 

"  They  are  extremely  handsome,  certainly,  and  you  have 
done  well  to  purchase  them,  although  you  were  somewhat 
remiss  not  to  have  procured  them  sooner." 

"  Indeed,  your  excellency,  I  had  very  considerable  diffi- 
culty in  obtaining  them,  and,  as  it  is,  they  have  cost  an 
enormous  price." 

"  Does  the  sum  you  gave  for  them  make  the  animals  less 
beautiful?"  inquired  the  count,  shrugging  his  shoulders. 

"Nay,  if  your  excellency  is  satisfied,  all  is  as  I  could 
wish  it.  Whither  does  M.  le  Comte  desire  to  be  driven?" 

"  To  the  residence  of  M.  le  Baron  Danglars,  Rue  de  la 
Chaussee  d'Antin." 

This  conversation  had  passed  as  they  stood  upon  the 
terrace,  from  which  a  flight  of  stone  steps  led  to  the 
carriage-drive.  As  Bertuccio,  with  a  respectful  bow,  was 
moving  away,  the  count  called  him  back. 

"  I  have  another  commission  for  you,  M.  Bertuccio," 
said  he;  "  I  am  desirous  of  having  an  estate  by  the  sea- 
side- in  Normandy — for  instance,  between  Havre  and 
Boulogne.  You  see  I  give  you  a  wide  range.  It  will  be 
absolutely  necessary  that  the  place  you  may  select  have  a 
small  harbor,  creek  or  bay  into  which  my  vessel  can  enter 
and  remain  at  anchor.  She  merely  draws  fifteen  feet  of 
water.  She  must  be  kept  in  constant  readiness  to  sail  im- 
mediately I  think  proper  to  give  the  signal.  Make  the 
requisite  inquiries  for  a  place  of  this  description,  and  when 
you  have  met  with  an  eligible  spot  visit  it,  and,  if  it  pos- 
sess the  advantages  desired,  purchase  it  at  once  in  your 
own  name.  The  corvette  must  now,  I  think,  be  on  her 
way  to  Fecamp,  must  she  not?" 

"  Certainly,  your  excellency;  I  saw  her  put  to  sea  the 
same  evening  we  quitted  Marseilles." 


536  THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO. 

"  And  the  yacht?" 

"  Was  ordered  to  remain  at  Martigues." 

'"Tis  well!  I  wish  you  to  write  from  time  to  time  to 
the  captains  in  charge  of  the  two  vessels,  so  as  to  keep 
them  on  the.  alert." 

"  And  the  steamboat?  Has  your  excellency  any  orders 
to  give  respecting  her?" 

"  She  is  at  Chalons,  is  she  not?" 

"  She  is,  my  lord." 

"  The  directions  I  gave  you  for  the  other  two  vessels  may 
suffice  for  the  steamboat  also." 

"  I  understand,  my  lord,  and  will  punctually  fulfill  your 
commands." 

"  When  you  have  purchased  the  estate  I  desire,  I  mean 
to  establish  constant  relays  of  horses  at  ten  leagues'  dis- 
tance, one  from  the  other,  along  the  northern  and  south- 
ern road." 

"  Your  excellency  may  fully  depend  upon  my  zeal  and 
fidelity  in  all  things." 

The  count  gave  an  approving  smile,  descended  the  ter- 
race steps  and  sprang  into  his  carriage,  which,  drawn  by 
the  beautiful  animals  so  expensively  purchased,  was  whirled 
aloug  with  incredible  swiftness,  and  stopped  only  before 
the  hdtei  of  the  banker.  Danglers  was  engaged  at  that 
moment  presiding  over  a  railroad  committee.  But  the 
meeting  was  nearly  concluded  when  the  name  of  this  visi- 
tor was  announced.  As  the  count's  title  sounded  on  his 
ear  he  rose,  and,  addressing  his  colleagues,  many  of  whom 
were  members  of  either  chamber,  he  said : 

"  Gentlemen,  I  must  pray  you  to  excuse  my  quitting 
you  thus,  but  a  most  ridiculous  circumstance  has  occurred, 
which  is  this:  Thomson  &  French,  the  bankers  at  Rome, 
have  sent  to  me  a  certain  individual  calling  himself  the 
Count  of  Monte  Cristo,  who  is  desirous  of  opening  an  ac- 
count with  me  to  any  amount  he  pleases.  I  confess  this  is 
the  drollest  thing  I  have  ever  met  with  in  the  course  of 
my  extensive  foreign  transactions,  and  you  may  readily 
suppose  it  has  greatly  roused  my  curiosity;  indeed,  so 
much  did  I  long  to  see  the  bearer  of  so  unprecedented  an 
order  for  an  unlimited  credit  that  I  took  the  trouble  this 
morning  to  call  on  the  pretended  count,  for  his  title  is  a 
mere  fiction — of  that  I  am  persuaded.  We  all  know 
counts  nowadays  are  not  famous  for  their  riches.  But, 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRI8TO.  537 

would  you  believe,  upon  arriving  at  the  residence  of  the 
soi-disant  Count  of  Monte  Cristo,  I  was  very  coolly  in- 
formed '  He  did  not  receive  visitors  that  day !'  Upon  my 
word,  such  airs  are  ridiculous  and  befitting  only  some  great 
millionaire  or  a  capricious  beauty.  I  made  inquiries,  and 
found  that  the  house  where  the  said  count  resides,  in  the 
Champs  Elysees,  is  his  own  property,  and  certainly  it  was 
very  decently  kept  up  and  arranged,  as  far  as  I  could 
judge  from  the  gardens  and  exterior  of  the  hdtel.  But," 
pursued  Danglars,  with  one  of  his  sinister  smiles,  "  an 
order  for  unlimited  credit  calls  for  something  like  caution 
on  the  part  of  the  banker  to  whom  that  order  is  given. 
These  facts  stated,  I  will  freely  confess  I  am  very  anxious 
to  see  the  individual  just  now  announced.  I  suspect  a 
hoax  is  intended,  but  the  good  folks  who  thought  fit  to 
play  it  off  on  me  knew  but  little  whom  they  had  to  deal 
with.  Well!  well!  we  shall  see.  'They  laugh  best  who 
laugh  last!' 

Having  delivered  himself  of  this  pompous  address, 
uttered  with  a  degree  of  energy  that  left  the  baron  almost 
out  of  breath,  he  bowed  to  the  assembled  party  and  with- 
drew to  his  drawing-room,  whose  sumptuous  fittings  up  of 
white  and  gold  had  caused  a  great  and  admiring  sensation 
in  the  Chaussee  d'Antin.  It  was  to  this  apartment  he 
had  desired  his  guest  to  be  shown,  fully  reckoning  upon 
the  overwhelming  effect  so  dazzling  a  coup  d'  ceil  would 
produce.  He  found  the  count  standing  before  some  copies 
of  Albano  und  Fattore  that  had  been  passed  off  to  the 
banker  as  originals;  but  which,  copies  of  the  paintings  of 
those  great  masters  as  they  were,  seemed  to  feel  their 
degradation  in  being  brought  into  juxtaposition  with  the 
gaudy  gilding  that  covered  the  ceiling.  The  count  turned 
round  as  he  heard  the  entrance  of  Danglars  into  the  room. 
With  a  slight  inclination  of  the  head  Danglars  signed  to 
the  count  to  be  seated,  pointing  significantly  to  a  gilded 
arm-chair,  covered  with  white  satin,  embroidered  with 
gold.  The  count  obeyed. 

"  I  have  the  honor,  I  presume,  of  addressing  M.  de 
Monte  Cristo?" 

The  count  bowed. 

"  And  I  of  speaking  to  Baron  Danglars,  Chevalier  de  la 
Legion  d'Honueur  and  Member  of  the  Chamber  of  Depu- 
ties?" 


538  THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO. 

"With  an  air  of  extreme  gravity  Monte  Cristo  slowly 
enumerated  the  various  titles  engraved  on  the  card  left  at 
his  h6tel  by  the  baron. 

Danglars  felt  all  the  irony  contained  in  the  address  of 
his  visitor.  For  a  minute  or  two  he  compressed  his  lips 
as  though  seeking  to  conquer  his  rage  ere  trusting  himself 
to  speak.  Then,  turning  to  his  visitor,  he  said: 

"  You  will,  I  trust,  excuse  my  not  having  called  you  by 
your  title  when  I  first  addressed  you,  but  you  are  aware  we 
are  living  under  a  popular  form  of  government,  and  that  I 
am  myself  a  representative  of  the  liberties  of  the  people." 

"  So  much  so,"  replied  Monte  Cristo,  that  while  pre- 
serving the  habit  of  styling  yourself  baron,  you  have 
deemed  it  advisable  to  lay  aside  that  of  calling  others  by 
their  titles." 

"  Upon  my  word,"  said  Danglars,  with  affected  careless- 
ness, "  I  attach  no  sort  of  value  to  such  empty  distinc- 
tions; but  the  fact  is  I  was  made  baron  and  also  Chevalier 
de  la  Legion  d'Honneur  in  consequence  of  some  services  I 
had  rendered  government,  but " 

' '  You  have  abdicated  your  titles  after  the  example  set 
you  by  Messrs,  de  Montmorency  and  Lafayette?  Well, 
you  cannot  possibly  choose  more  noble  models  for  your 
conduct." 

' '  Why,"  replied  Danglars,  "  I  do  not  mean  to  say  I  have 
altogether  laid  aside  rny  titles;  with  the  servants,  for  in- 
stance— there  I  think  it  right  to  preserve  my  rank  with  all 
its  outward  forms." 

"  I  see;  by  your  domestics  you  are  '  my  lord/  '  M.  le 
Baron!'  the  journalists  of  the  day  style  you  ' monsieur!' 
while  your  constituents  term  you  '  citizen.'" 

Again  Danglars  bit  his  lips  with  baffled  spite;  he  saw 
well  enough  that  he  was  no  match  for  Monte  Cristo  in  an 
argument  of  this  sort,  and  he  therefore  hastened  to  turn 
to  subjects  more  familiar  to  him,  and  calculated  on  having 
all  the  advantages  on  his  side. 

"  Permit  me  to  inform  you,  M.  le  Comte,"  said  he, 
bowing,  <f  that  I  have  received  a  letter  of  advice  from 
Thomson  &  French,  of  Eome." 

"  I  am  glad  to  hear  it,  M.  le  Baron,  for  I  must  claim  the 
privilege  of  so  addressing  you  as  well  as  your  servants;  I 
have  acquired  the  bad  habit  of  calling  persons  by  their 
style  and  title  from  living  in  a  country  where  barons  are 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CR18TO.  539 

still  met  with,  simply  because  persons  are  never  suddenly 
elevated  to  a  rank  which  is  possessed  only  in  right  of  an- 
cestry. But  as  regards  the  letter  of  advice,  I  am  charmed 
to  find  it  has  reached  you;  that  will  spare  me  the  trouble- 
some and  disagreeable  task  of  coming  to  you  for  money 
myself.  You  have  received  a  regular  letter  of  advice, 
therefore  my  checks  will  be  duly  honored,  and  we  shall 
neither  of  us  have  to  go  out  of  our  way  in  the  trans- 
action/' 

"  There  is  one  slight  difficulty/'  said  Danglars,  "and 
that  consists  in  my  not  precisely  comprehending  the  letter 
itself !" 

"Indeed?" 

"And  for  that  reason  I  did  myself  the  honor  of  calling 
upon  you,  in  order  to  beg  you  would  explain  some  part  of 
it  to  me." 

"  With  much  pleasure!  Pray,  now  I  am  here,  let  me 
know  what  it  was  that  baffled  your  powers  of  compre- 
hension!" 

"  Why,"  said  Danglars,  "  in  the  letter — I  believe  I  have 
it  about  me" — here  he  felt  in  his  breast-pocket — "yes, 
here  it  is!  Well,  this  letter  gives  M.  le  Comte  de  Monte 
Cristo  unlimited  credit  on  our  house." 

"And  what  is  there  that  requires  explaining  in  that 
simple  fact,  may  I  ask,  M.  le  Baron?" 

"  Merely  the  term  unlimited — nothing  else,  certainly." 

"Is not  that  word  known  in  France?  Perhaps,  indeed, 
it  does  not  belong  to  the  language,  for  the  persons  from 
whom  you  received  your  letter  of  advice  are  a  species  of 
Anglo-Germans,  and  very  probably  do  not  write  very  choice 
or  accurate  French." 

"  Oh,  as  for  the  composition  of  the  letter,  there  is  not 
the  smallest  error  in  it;  but  as  regards  the  competency  of 
the  document,  I  certainly  have  doubts." 

"  Is  it  possible?"  asked  the  count,  assuming  an  air  and 
tone  of  the  utmost  simplicity  and  candor.  "  Is  it  posfeible 
that  Thomson  &  French  are  not  looked  upon  as  safe  and 
solvent  bankers?  Pray,  tell  me  what  you  think,  M.  le 
Baron,  for  I  feel  uneasy,  I  can  assure  you,  having  some 
considerable  property  in  their  hands." 

"  Thomson  &  French  are  bankers  of  the  highest  repute," 
replied  Danglars,  with  an  almost  mocking  smile;  "and  it 
was  not  of  their  solvency  or  capability  I  spoke,  but  of 


540  THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO. 

the  word  unlimited,  which,  in  financial  affairs,  is  so  ex- 
tremely vague  a  term — that — that " 

"In  fact,'' said  Monte  Cristo,  "that  its  sense  is  also 
without  limitation." 

"Precisely  what  I  was  about  to  say,"  cried  Danglars. 
"  Now  what  is  vague  is  doubtful;  and,  says  the  wise  man, 
( where  there  is  doubt  there  is  danger!'" 

"Meaning  to  say,"  rejoined  Monte  Cristo,  "that,  how- 
ever Thomson  &  French  may  be  inclined  to  commit  acts  of 
imprudence  and  folly,  M.  le  Baron  Danglars  is  not  dis- 
posed to  follow  their  example." 

"How  so,  M.  le  Oomte?" 

"  Simply  thus:  the  banking-house  of  Thomson  &  French 
set  no  bounds  to  their  engagements,  while  that  of  M. 
Danglars  has  its  limits;  truly  he  is  wise  as  the  sage  whose 
prudent  apophthegm  he  quoted  but  iust  now." 

"Monsieur!"  replied  the  banker*,  drawing  himself  up 
with  a  haughty  air,  "the  amount  of  my  capital,  or  the 
extent  and  solvency  of  my  engagements,  has  never  yet  been 
questioned." 

"  It  seems,  then,  reserved  for  me,"  said  Monte  Cristo, 
coldly,  "  to  be  the  first  to  do  so." 

"  By  what  right,  sir?" 

"  By  right  of  the  objections  you  have  raised,  and  the 
explanations  you  have  demanded,  which  certainly  imply 
considerable  distrust  on  your  part,  either  of  yourself  or  me 
— the  former  most  probably." 

Again  did  Danglars,  by  a  forcible  effort,  restrain  himself 
from  betraying  the  vindictive  passions  which  possessed  his 
mind  at  this  second  defeat  by  an  adversary  who  calmly 
fought  him  with  his  own  weapons;  his  forced  politeness 
sat  awkwardly  upon  him,  while  his  splenetic  rage,  although 
essaying  to  veil  itself  under  a  playful,  jesting  manner, 
approached  .  at  times  almost  to  impertinence.  Monte 
Cristo,  on  the  contrary,  preserved  a  graceful  suavity  of 
demeanor,  aided  by  a  certain  degree  of  simplicity  he  could 
assume  at  pleasure,  and  thus,  calm  and  wholly  at  his 
ease,  possessed  an  infinite  advantage  over  his  irascible 
companion. 

"  Well,  sir,"  resumed  Danglars,  after  a  brief  silence, 
"  I  will  endeavor  to  make  myself  understood  by  requesting 
you  to  inform  me  for  what  sum  you  propose  to  draw  upon 
me?" 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRI8TO.  541 

"  Why,  truly,"  replied  Monte  Cristp,  determined  not  to 
lose  au  inch  of  the  ground  he  had  gained,  "  my  reason  for 
desiring  an  '  unlimited '  credit  was  precisely  because  I  did 
not  know  what  money  I  might  expend." 

The  banker  now  thought  it  his  turn  to  show  off  and 
make  a  display  of  wealth  and  consequence.  Fliuging  him- 
self back  therefore  in  his  arm-chair,  he  said,  with  au  arro- 
gant and  purse-proud  air. 

"  Let  me  beg  of  you  not  to  hesitate  in  naming  your 
wishes;  you  will  then  be  convinced  that  the  resources  of 
the  house  of  Danglars,  however  limited,  are  still  equal 
to  meeting  the  largest  demands;  and  were  you  even  to 
require  a  million J 

"I  beg  your  pardon,"  interposed  Monte  Cristo. 

"  I  observed,"  replied  Danglars,  with  a  patronizing  and 
pompous  air,  "  that  should  you  be  hard  pressed,  the  con- 
cern, of  which  I  am  the  head,  would  not  scruple  to  acom- 
modate  you  to  the  amount  of  a  million." 

"A  million!"  retorted  the  count;  "and  what  use  can 
you  possibly  suppose  so  pitiful  a  sum  would  be  to  me?  My 
dear  sir,  if  a  trifle  like  that  could  suffice  me,  I  should  never 
have  given  myself  the  trouble  of  opening  an  account  for 
so  contemptible  an  amount.  A  million!  Excuse  my  smil- 
ing when  you  speak  of  a  sum  I  am  in  the  habit  of  a  carry- 
ing in  my  pocket-book  or  dressing-case." 

And  with  these  words  Monte  Cristo  took  from  his  pocket 
a  small  case  containing  his  visiting  cards  and  drew  forth 
two  orders  on  the  treasury  for  500,000  francs  each,  payable 
at  sight  to  the  bearer.  A  man  like  Danglars  was  wholly 
inaccessible  to  any  gentler  method  of  correction;  his  upstart 
arrogance,  his  ostentatious  vulgarity,  were  only  assailable  by 
blows  dealt  with  the  force  and  vigor  of  the  present  coup;  its 
effect  on  the  banker  was  perfectly  stunning;  and  as  though 
scarcely  venturing  to  credit  his  senses,  he  continued  gazing 
from  the  paper  to  the  count  with  a  confused  and  mystified 
air. 

"  Come,  come,"  said  Monte  Cristo,  "  confess  honestly 
that  you  have  not  perfect  confidence  in  the  responsibility 
of  the  house  of  Thomas  &  French.  There  is  nothing  very 
strange  in  your  exercising  what  seems  to  you  a  necessary 
caution;  however,  foreseeing  that  such  might  be  the  case, 
I  determined,  spite  of  my  ignorance  in  such  matters,  to 
be  provided  with  the  means  of  banishing  all  scruples  from 


542  THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CEI8TO. 

your  mind  and  at  the  same  time  leaving  yon  quite  at 
liberty  to  act  as  you  pleased  in  the  affair.  See,  here  are 
two  similar  letters  to  that  you  have  yourself  received;  the 
one  from  the  house  of  Arstein  &  Eskeles,  of  Vienna,  to 
Baron  de  Rothschild,  the  other  drawn  from  Baring,  of 
London,  to  M.  Laffitte.  Now,  sir,  you  have  but  to  say  the 
word  and  I  will  spare  you  all  uneasiness  and  alarm  on  the 
subject  by  presenting  my  letter  of  credit  at  one  or  other  of 
the  establishments  I  have  named." 

The  blow  had  struck  home  and  Danglars  was  entirely 
vanquished.  With  a  trembling  hand  he  took  the  two 
letters  from  Vienna  and  London  from  the  count,  who  held 
them  carelessly  between  his  finger  and  thumb  as  though  to 
him  they  were  mere  every-day  matters  to  which  he  attached 
but  very  little  interest.  Having  carefully  perused  the  docu- 
ments in  question,  the  banker  proceeded  to  ascertain  the 
genuineness  of  the  signatures,  and  this  he  did  with  a 
scrutiny  so  severe  as  might  have  appeared  insulting  to  the 
count  had  it  not  suited  his  present  purpose  to  mislead  the 
banker  in  every  respect. 

"Well,  sir/'  said  Danglars,  rising,  after  he  had  well 
convinced  himself  of  the  authenticity  of  the  documents 
he  held,  and  bowing  as  though  in  adoration  of  a  man  the 
thrice  happy  possessor  of  as  many  orders  for  unlimited 
credit  on  the  three  principal  banks  of  Paris,  "you  have 
three  signatures  worth  untold  wealth.  Although  your 
conversation  and  vouchers  put  an  end  to  all  mistrust  in 
the  affair,  you  must  pardon  .me,  M.  le  Comte,  for  confess- 
ing the  most  extreme  astonishment/' 

"Nay,  nay,"  answered  Monte  Cristo,  with  the  easiest 
and  most  gentlemanly  air  imaginable,  "'tis  not  for  such 
trifling  sums  as  these  to  startle  or  astonish  the  banking 
house  of  M.  le  Baron  Danglars.  Then,  as  all  is  settled  as 
to  forms  between  us,  I  will  thank  you  to  send  a  supply  of 
money  to  me  to-morrow." 

"  By  all  means,  M.  le  Comte.    What  sum  do  you  want?" 

"Why,"  replied  Monte-Oisto,  "  since  we  mutually 
understand  each  other — for  such  I  presume  is  the  case?" 

Danglars  bowed  assentingly. 

"You  are  quite  sure  that  not  a  lurking  doubt  or  suspi- 
cion lingers  in  your  mind  ?" 

"Oh,  M.  le  Comte!"  I  never  for  an  instant  entertained 
such  a  feeling  toward  you." 


THE  CO  UNT  OF  MONTE  CRI8TO  543 

"No,  no!  you  merely  wished  to  be  convinced  you  ran 
no  risk,  nothing  more;  but  now  that  we  have  come  to  so 
clear  an  understanding  and  that  all  distrust  and  suspicion 
are  laid  at  rest,  we  may  as  well  fix  a  sum  as  the  probable 
expenditure  of  the  first  year.  Suppose  we  say  6,000,000 
francs  to " 

"  Six  million  francs!"  gasped  out  Dauglars;  "  certainly, 
whatever  you  please. " 

"  Then,  if  I  should  require  more,"  continued  Monte 
Cristo,  in  a  careless,  indifferent  manner,  "why,  of  course, 
I  should  draw  upon  you;  but  my  present  intention  is  not 
to  remain  in  France  more  than  a  year,  and  during  that 
period  I  scarcely  think  I  shall  exceed  the  sum  I  mentioned. 
However,  we  shall  see." 

"The  money  you  desire  shall  be  at  your  house  by  10 
o'clock  to-morrow  morning,  M.  le  Comte,"  replied  Dang- 
lars.  "  How  would  you  like  to  have  it — in  gold,  silver  or 
notes?" 

"  Half  in  gold  and  the  other  half  in  bank-notes,  if  you 
please,"  said  the  count,  rising  from  his  seat. 


of  Europe,  and  still  wealth  such  as  yours  has  been  wholly 
unknown  to  me.  May  I  presume  to  ask  whether  you  have 
long  possessed  it?" 

"  It  has  been  in  the  family  a  very  long  while,"  returned 
Monte  Cristo,  "a  sort  of  treasure  expressly  forbidden  to 
be  touched  for  a  certain  period  of  years,  during  which  the 
accumulated  interest  has  doubled  the  capital.  The  period 
appointed  by  the  testator  for  the  disposal  of  these  riches 
occurred  only  a  short  time  ago,  and  they  have  only  been 
employed  by  me  within  the  last  few  years.  Your  ignor- 
ance on  the  subject,  therefore,  is  easily  accounted  for. 
However,  you  will  be  better  informed  as  to  me  and  my 
possessions  ere  long." 

And  the  count,  while  pronouncing  these  latter  words, 
accompanied  them  with  one  of  those  ghastly  smiles  that 
used  to  strike  terror  into  poor  Franz  d'Epinay. 

"With  your  tastes  and  means  of  gratifying  them,"  con- 
tinued Danglars,  "you  will  exhibit  a  splendor  that  must 
effectually  put  us  poor,  miserable  millionaires  quite  in  the 
background.  If  I  mistake  not  you  are  an  admirer  of 


544  THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO. 

paintings;  at  least,  I  judged  BO  from  the  attention  you 
appeared  to  be  bestowing  on  mine  when  I  entered  the 
room.  If  you  will  permit  me  I  shall  be  happy  to  show 
you  my  picture  gallery,  composed  entirely  of  works  by  the 
ancient  masters — warranted  as  such.  Not  a  modern  picture 
among  them.  I  cannot  endure  the  modern  school  of 
painting/' 

"You  are  perfectly  right  in  objecting  to  them  for  this 
one  great  fault — that  they  have  not  yet  had  time  to  become 
old." 

"  Or  will  you  allow  me  to  show  you  several  fine  statues 
by  Tborwaldsen,  Bartoloni  and  Canova — all  foreign  artists? 
For,  as  you  may  perceive,  I  think  but  very  indifferently 
of  our  French  sculptors." 

"  You  have  a  right  to  be  unjust  to  your  own  country- 
men, if  such  is  your  pleasure."  " 

"But  perhaps  you  will  prefer  puttiug  off  your  inspection 
of  my  poor  pictures,  etc.,  until  another  opportunity,  when 
we  shall  be  better  known  to  each  other.  For  the* present 
I  will  confine  myself,  if  perfectly  agreeable  to  you,  to  in- 
troducing you  to  Mme.  la  Baronne  Danglars.  Excuse  my 
impatience,  M.  le  Comte,  but  a  person  of  your  wealth  and 
influence  cannot  receive  too  much  attention." 

Monte  Cristo  bowed "  in  sign  that  he  accepted  the 
preferred  honor,  and  the  financier  immediately  rang  a 
small  bell,  which  was  answered  by  a  servant  in  a  showy 
livery. 

"  Is  Mme.  la  Baronne  at  home?"  inquired  Danglars. 

"Yes,  M.  le  Baron,"  answered  the  man. 

"And  alone?" 

"No,  M.  le  Baron,  madame  has  visitors." 

"  Have  you  any  objections  to  meet  any  persons  who  may 
be  with  madame,  or  do  you  desire  to  preserve  a  strict 
incognito?" 

"No,  indeed,"  replied  Monte  Cristo,  with  a  smile;  "I 
do  not  arrogate  to  myself  the  right  of  so  doing." 

"And  who  is  with  madame — M.  Debray?"  inquired 
Danglars,  with  an  air  of  indulgence  and  good  nature  that 
made  Monte  Cristo  smile,  acquainted  as  he  was  with  the 
secrets  of  the  banker's  domestic  life. 

"Yes,  M.  le  Baron,"  replied  the  servant,  "M.  Debray 
is  with  madame. 

Danglars  nodded  his  head.     Then,  turning   to   Monte 


.  THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRI8TO.  545 

Cristo,  said:  "M.  Lucien  Debray  is  an  old  friend  of  ours 
and  private  secretary  to  the  Minister  de  1'Interieur. 
As  for  my  wife,  I  must  tell  you,  she  lowered  her- 
self by  marrying  me,  for  she  belongs  to  one  of  the  most 
ancient  families  in  France.  Her  maiden  name  was  De 
Servieres,  and  her  first  husband  was  M.  le  Col.  Marquis  de 
Nargonne." 

"  I  have  not  the  honor  of  knowing  Mme.  Danglars  ;  but 
I  have  already  met  M.  Lucien  Debray. " 

"Ah!  indeed  !"  said  Danglars;  "and  where  was 
that?" 

"At  the  house  of  M.  de  Morcerf." 

"  Oh  !  what !  you  are  acquainted  with  the  young  ris- 
count,  are  you?"  " 

"We  were  together  a  good  deal  during  the  carnival  at 
Rome." 

"  True,  true  !"  cried  Danglars.  "  Let  me  see  ;  have  I 
not  heard  talk  of  some  strange  adventure  with  bandits  or 
thieves  hid  in  ruins,  and  of  his  having  had  a  miraculous 
escape?  I  forgot  how  ;  but  I  know  he  used  to  amuse  my 
wife  and  daughter  by  telling  them  about  it  after  his  re- 
turn from  Italy. " 

"  Mme.  la  Baronne  is  waiting  to  receive  you,  gentle- 
men," said  the  servant,  who  had  gone  to  inquire  the  plea- 
sure of  his  mistress. 

"  With  your  permission,"  said  Danglars,  bowing,  "  I 
will  precede  you,  to  show  you  the  way." 

"  By  all  means,"  replied  Monte  Cristo ;  I  follow  you." 


CHAPTER   XLVII. 

THE     DAPPLED     GRAYS. 

THE  baron,  followed  by  the  count,  traversed  a  long  suit 
of  apartments,  in  which  the  prevailing  characteristics  were 
heavy  magnificence  and  the  gaudiness  of  ostentatious 
wealth,  until  he  reached  the  boudoir  of  Mme.  Danglars 
— a  small  octagonal-shaped  room,  hung  with  pink  satin, 
covered  with  white  Indian  muslin  ;  the  chairs  were  of 
ancient  workmanship  and  materials ;  over  the  doors  were 
painted  sketches  of  shepherds  and  shepherdesses,  after  the 
style  and  manner  of  Boucher;  and  at  each  side  prettj 


546  THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRI8TO. 

medallions  in  crayons,  harmonizing  well  with  the  fittings- 
up  of  this  charming  apartment,  the  only  one  throughout 
the  vast  hotel  in  which  any  distinctive  taste  prevailed. 
The  truth  was,  it  had  been  entirely  overlooked  in  the  plan 
arranged  and  followed  out  by  M.  Danglars  and  his  archi- 
tect, who  had  been  selected  to  aid  the  baron  in  the  great 
work  of  improvement  he  meditated  solely  because  he  was 
the  most  fashionable  and  celebrated  decorator  of  the  day. 
The  ornamental  part  of  the  fittings-up  of  Mme.  Danglars' 
boudoir  had  then  been  left  entirely  to  herself  and  Lucien 
Debray.  M.  Danglars,  however,  while  possessing  a  great 
admiration  for  the  antique,  as  it  was  understood  during 
the  time  of  the  directory,  entertained  the  most  sovereign 
contempt  for  the  simple  elegance  of  his  wife's  favorite 
sitting-room,  where,  by  the  way,  he  was  never  permitted 
to  intrude,  unless,  indeed,  he  excused  his  own  appearance 
by  ushering  in  some  more  agreeable  visitor  than  himself  ; 
and  even  then  he  had  rather  the  air  and  manner  of  a  per- 
son who  was  himself  introduced,  than  as  being  the  pre- 
sentor  of  another,  his  reception  being  either  cordial  or 
frigid,  in  proportion  as  the  individual  who  accompanied 
him  chanced  to  please  or  displease  his  lady  wife. 

As  Danglars  now  entered  he  found  Mme.  la  Baronne 
(who,  although  past  the  first  bloom  of  youth,  was  still 
strikingly  handsome)  seated  at  the  piano,  a  most  elaborate 
piece  of  cabinet  and  inlaid  work,  while  Lucien  Debray, 
standing  before  a  small  work-table,  was  turning  over  the 
pages  of  an  album.  Lucien  had  found  time,  preparatory 
to  the  count's  arrival,  to  relate  many  particulars  respecting 
him  to  Mme.  Danglars.  It  will  be  remembered  that 
Monte  Cristo  had  made  a  lively  impression  on  the  minds  of 
all  the  party  assembled  at  the  breakfast  given  by  Albert  de 
Morcerf ;  and  although  Debray  was  not  in  the  habit  of 
yielding  to  such  feelings,  he  had  never  been  able  to  shake 
off  the  powerful  influence  excited  in  his  mind  by  the  im- 
pressive look  and  manner  of  the  count,  consequently  the 
description  given  by  Lucien  to  the  baroness  bore  the  highly- 
colored  tinge  of  his  own  heated  imagination.  Already  ex- 
cited by  the  wonderful  stories  related  of  the  count  by  De 
Morcerf,  it  is  no  wonder  that  Mme.  Danglars  eagerly 
listened  to,  and  fully  credited,  all  the  additional  circum- 
stances detailed  by  Debray.  The  sound  of  approaching 
footsteps  compelled  the  animated  pair  to  assume  an  ap- 


THE  CO  UNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO.  547 

pearance  of  calm  indifference  and  worldly  ease  ;  the  lady 
flew  to  her  piano,  and  her  companion  snatched  up  an 
album  which  fortunately  lay  near,  and  seemed  as  though 
really  interested  in  its  contents.  A  most  gracious  welcome 
and  unusual  smile  were  bestowed  on  M.  Danglars  ;  the 
count,  in  return  for  his  gentlemanly  bow,  received  a  formal 
though  graceful  courtesy,  while  Lucien  exchanged  with  the 
count  a  sort  of  distant  recognition,  and  with  Danglars  a 
free  and  easy  nod. 

"Baroness>"  said  Danglars,  "give  me  leave  to  present 
to  you  the  Count  of  Monte  Cristo,  who  has  been  most 
warmly  recommended  to  me  by  my  correspondents  at  Eome. 
I  need  but  mention  one  fact  to  make  all  the  ladies  in 
Paris  court  his  notice,  and  that  is,  that  the  noble  indi- 
vidual before  you  has  come  to  take  up  his  abode  in  our 
fine  capital  for  one  year,  during  which  brief  period  he  pro- 
poses to  spend  6,000,000  francs—  think  of  that  !  It  sounds 
very  much  like  an  announcement  of  balls  fe'tes,  dinners, 
and  pic-nic  parties,  in  all  of  which  I  trust  M.  le  Comte 
will  remember  us,  as  he  may  depend  upon  it  we  shall  him, 
in  all  the  entertainments  we.  may  give,  be  they  great  or 
small." 

Spite  of  the  gross  flattery  and  coarseness  of  his  address, 
Mme.  Danglars  could  not  forbear  gazing  with  considerable 
interest  on  a  man  capable  of  expending  6,000,000  francs  in 
twelve  months,  and  who  had  selected  Paris  for  the  scene 
of  his  princely  extravagance." 

"And  when  did  you  arrive  here?"  inquired  she. 

"  Yesterday  morning,  madame." 

"  Coming,  as  usual,  I  presume,  from  the  extreme  end  of 
the  globe?  Pardon  me  —  at  least,  such  I  have  heard  is 
your  custom." 

"  Nay,  madame  !  This  time  I  have  merely  proceeded 
from  Cadiz  hither." 

"  You  have  selected  a  most  unfavorable  moment  for 
your  visit  to  our'  city.  Paris  is  a  horrible  place  in  summer! 
Balls,  parties,  and  fe'tes  are  over  ;  the  Italian  opera  is  in 
London  ;  the  French  opera  everywhere  except  in  Paris. 
As  for  the  Thedter  Frai^ais,  you  know,  of  course,  that  it 
is  nowhere.  The  only  amusements  left  us  are  the  indif- 
ferent races  held  in"  the  Champ  de  Mars  and  Satory.  Do 
ou  propose  entering  any  horses  at  either  of  these  races,  M. 

Comte?" 


y 
le 


548  THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRI8TO. 

"  I  assure  you,  madam,"  replied  Monte  Cristo,  "  my 
present  intentions  are  to  do  whatever  will  tend  to  render 
my  sojurn  in  Paris  most  agreeable  to  myself  and  others.  I 
only  pray  I  may  find  some  kind,  pitying  friend  who  will 
commiserate  my  lamentable  ignorance' of  such  matters,  and 
instruct  me  rightly  to  understand  the  habits  and  etiquette 
of  this  polished  city/' 

"Are  you  fond  of  horses,  M.  le  Comte?" 

"  I  have  passed  a  considerable  part  of  my  life  in  the 
east,  madame,  and  you  are  doubtless  aware  -that  the  in- 
habitants of  those  climes  value  only  two  things — the  fine 
breeding  of  their  horses  and  the  beauty  of  their  females." 

"  Nay,  M.  le  Comte"  said  the  baroness,  "it  would  have 
been  somewhat  more  gallant  to  have  placed  the  ladies  be- 
fore the  animals." 

"  You  see,  madame,  how  rightly  I  spoke  when  I  said  I 
required  a  preceptor  to  guide  me  in  all  my  sayings  and 
doings  here."  At  this  instant  the  favorite  attendant  of 
Mme.  Danglars  entered  the  boudoir;  approaching  her  mis- 
tress, she  spoke  some  words  in  an  under-tone.  Mme. 
Danglars  turned  very  pale,  then  exclaimed:  "  I  cannot  be- 
lieve it;  the  thing  is  impossible." 

"I  assure  you,  madame,"  replied  the  woman,  "it  is  even 
as  I  have  said."  Turning  impatiently  toward  her  husband, 
Mme.  Danglars  demanded,  "Is  this  true  ?" 

"  Is  what  true,  madame  ?"  inquired  Danglars,  visibly 
agitated. 

"  What  my  maid  tells  me." 

"  But  what  does  she  tell  you  ?" 

"  That  when  my  coachman  was  about  to  prepare  my 
carriage,  he  discovered  that  the  horses  had  been  removed 
from  the  stable  without  his  knowledge.  I  desire  to  know 
what  is  the  meaning  of  this  ?" 

"Be  kind  enough,  madame,  to  listen  to  me,"  said  Danglars. 

"  Fear  not  my  listening — ay,  and  attentively,  too;  for, 
in  truth,  I  am  most  curious  to  hear  what  explanation  you 
purpose  offering  for  conduct  so  unparalleled.  These  two 
gentleman  shall  decide  between  us;  but,  first,  I  will  state 
the  case  to  them.  Gentlemen,"  continued  the  baroness, 
"among  the  ten  horses  in  the  stables  of  M.  le  Baron 
Danglars,  are  two  that  belong  exclusively  to  me— a  pair  of 
the  handsomest  and  most  spirited  creatures  to  be  found  in 
Paris.  But  to  you,  at  least,  M.  Debray,  I  need  not  give 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO.  549 

a  further  description,  because  to  yon  my  beautiful  pair  of 
dappled  grays  were  well  known.  Well  !  I  had  promised 
Mme.  de  Villefort  the  loan  of  my  carriage  to  drive  to-mor- 
row to  the  Bois  de  Boulogne;  but  when  my  coachman 
goes  to  fetch  the  grays  from  the  stables  they  are  gone — 
positively  gone.  No 'doubt,  M.  Dauglars  has  sacrificed 
them  to  the  selfish  consideration  of  gaining  some  thousands 
of  paltry  francs.  Oh,  how  I  hate  and  detest  that  money- 
graspiug  nature  !  Heaven  defend  me  from  all  the  race  of 
mercenary  speculators  V 

"Madame,"  replied  Danglars,  "the  horses  were  not  suffi- 
ciently quiet  for  you;  they  were  scarcely  4  years  old,  and 
they  made  me  extremely  uneasy  on  your  account." 

"  Nonsense  !v  retorted  the  baroness;  "you  could  not  have 
entertained  any  alarm  on  the  subject,  because  you  are  per- 
fectly well  aware  that  I  have  recently  engaged  a  coachman, 
who  is  said  to  be  the  best  in  Paris.  But,  perhaps,  you 
have  disposed  of  the  coachman  as  well  as  the  horses  ?"  ' 

"  My  dear  love  !  pray,  do  not  say  any  more  about  them, 
and  I  promise  you  another  pair  exactly  like  them  in  ap- 
pearance, only  more  quiet  and  steady."  The  baroness 
shrugged  up  her  shoulders  with  an  air  of  ineffable  con- 
tempt, while  her  husband,  affecting  not  to  observe  it, 
turned  toward  Monte- Cristo,  and  said:  "Upon  my  word, 
M.  le  Comte,  I  am  quite  sorry  I  was  not  sooner  aware  of 
your  establishing  yourself  in  Paris." 

"  And  wherefore  ?"  asked  the  count. 

"  Because  I  should  have  liked  to  have  made  you  the 
offer  of  these  horses.  I  have  almost  given  them  away,  as 
it  is;  but,  as  I  before  said,  I  was  anxious  to  get  rid  of  them 
upon  any  terms.  They  were  only  fit  for  a  young  man;  not 
at  all  calculated  for  a  person  at  my  time  of  life. 

"  I  am  much  obliged  by  your  kind  intentions  toward 
me,"  said  Monte  Cristo;  "but  this  morning  I  purchased  a 
very  excllent  pair  of  carriage-horses,  and  I  do  not  think  they 
were  dear.  There  they  are.  Come,  M.  Debray,  you  are  a 
connoisseur,  I  believe,  let  me  have  your  opinion  upon 
them.  As  Debray  walked  toward  the  window,  Danglars 
approached  his  wife.  "  I  could  not  tell  you  before  others," 
said  he,  in  a  low  tone  "  the  reason  of  my  parting  with  the 
horses;  but  a  most  enormous  price  was  offered  me  this 
morning  for  them.  Some  madman  or  fool,  bent  upon 
ruining  himself  as  fast  as  he  can,  actually  send  his  steward 

DUMAS— VIM..   I.— 24 


550  THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRI8TO. 

to  me  to  purchase  them  at  any  cost;  and  the  fact  is,  I  have 
gained  16,000  francs  by  the  sale  of  them.  Come,  don't 
look  so  angry,  and  you  shall  have  4,000  francs  of  the 
money  to  do  what  you  like  with,  and  Eugenie  shall  have 
2,000  francs.  There,  what  do  you  think  now  of  the 
affair  ?  Wasn't  I  right  to  part  with  the  horses?"  Mme. 
Danglars  surveyed  her  husband  with  a  look  of  withering 
contempt. 

"What  do  I  see  ?"  suddenly  exclaimed  Debray. 

"Where  ?"  asked  the  baroness. 

' ' I  cannot  be  mistaken;  there  are  your  horses!  The 
very  animals  we  were  speaking  of,  harnessed  to  the  count's 
carriage  !" 

"  My  dear,  beautiful  dappled  grays  ?"  demanded  the 
baroness,  springing  to  the  window.  "  'Tis  indeed  they  \" 
said  she.  Danglars  looked  absolutely  stultified. 

"  How  very  singular !"  cried  Monte  Cristo,  with  well- 
feigned  astonishment.  Mme.  Danglars  whispered  a  few 
words  in  the  ear  of  Debray,  who  approached  Monte  Cristo, 
saying:  "The  baroness  wishes  to  know  what  you  paid  her 
husband  for  the  horses.'* 

"I  scarcely  know,"  replied  the  count;  "it  was  a  little 
surprise  prepared  for  me  by  my  steward;  he  knew  how  de- 
sirous I  was  of  meeting  with  precisely  such  a  pair  of 
horses — and — so  he  bought  them.  I  think,  if  I  remember 
rightly,  he  hinted  that  he  had  given  somewhere  about 
30,000  francs." 

-  Debray  conveyed  the  count's  reply  to  the  baroness. 
Poor  Danglars  looked  so  crestfallen  and  discomfited  that 
Monte  Cristo  assumed  a  pitying  air  toward  him.  "See," 
said  the  count,  "  how  very  ungrateful  women  are  !  Your 
kind  attention,  in  providing  for  the  safety  of  the  baroness 
by  disposing  of  the  horses,  does  not  seem  to  have  made  the 
least  impression  on  her.  But  so  it  is;  a  woman  will  often, 
from  mere  willfulness,  prefer  that  which  is  dangerous  to 
that  which  is  safe.  Therefore,  in  my  opinion,  my  dear 
baron,  the  best  and  easiest  way  is  to  leave  them  to  their 
fancies,  and  allow  them  to  act  as  they  please;  and  then,  if 
any  mischief  follows,  why,  at  least,  they  have  no  one  to 
blame  but  themselves."  Danglars  made  no  reply;  he  was 
occupied  in  anticipations  of  the  coming  scene  between  him- 
self and  the  baroness,  whose  threatening  looks  and  frown- 
ing brow,  like  that  of  Olympic  Jove,  predicted  a  fearful 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  GRISTO.  551 

storm.  Debray,  who  perceived  the  gathering  clouds,  and 
felt  no  desire  to  witness  the  explosion  of  Mme.  Danglars' 
rage,  suddenly  recollected  an  appointment,  which  com- 
pelled him  to  take  his  leave;  while  Monte  Cristo,  unwilling 
by  prolonging  his  stay  to  destroy  the  advantages  he  hoped 
to  obtain,  made  a  farewell  bow  and  parted,  leaving  Dang- 
lars to  endure  the  angry  reproaches  of  his  wife. 

"  Excellent  !"  murmured  Monte  Cristo  to  himself,  as  he 
retraced  the  way  to  his  carriage.  "All  has  gone  according 
to  my  wishes.  The  domestic  peace  of  this  family  is  hence- 
forth in  my  hands.  Now,  then,  to  play  another  master- 
stroke, by  which  I  shall  gain  the  heart  of  both  husband 
and  wife^— delightful  !  Still,"  added  he,  "amid  all  this,  I 
have  not  yet  been  presented  to  Mile.  Eugenie  Dang- 
lars whose  acquaintance  I  should  have  been  glad  to  make. 
But  never  mind,"  pursued  he,  with  that  peculiar  smile 
that  at  times  lighted  up  his  countenance,  "it  matters  not 
for  the  present.  I  am  on  the  spot,  and  have  plenty  of 
time  before  me — by-aud-by  will  do  for  that  part  of  my 
scheme."  The  count's  further  meditations  were  inter- 
rupted by  his  arrival  at  his  own  abode.  Two  hours  after- 
ward, Mme.  Danglers  received  a  most  flattering  epistle 
from  the  count,  in  which  he  entreated  her  to  receive  back  her 
favorite  "dappled  grays,"  protesting  that  he  could  not 
endure  the  idea  of  making  his  debut  in  the  Parisian  world 
of  fashion  with  the  knowledge  that  his  splendid  equipage 
had  been  obtained  at  the  price  of  a  lovely  woman's  regrets. 
The  horses  were  sent  back  wearing  the  same  harness  they 
had  done  in  the  morning;  the  only  difference  consisted  in 
the  rosettes  worn  on  the  heads  of  the  animals  being  adorned 
with  a  large  diamond  placed  in  the  center  of  each,  by  order 
of  the  count. 

To  Danglars  Monte  Cristo  also  wrote,  requesting  him  to 
excuse  the  whimsical  gift  of  a  capricious  millionaire,  and 
to  beg  of  Mme.  la  Baronne  to  pardon  the  eastern  fashion 
adopted  in  the  return  of  the  horses. 

During  the  evening  Monte  Cristo  quitted  Paris  for 
Auteuil,  accompanied  by  Ali.  The  following  day  about 
3  o'clock,  a  single  blow  struck  on  the  gong  summoned  Ali 
to  the  presence  of  the  count. 

"Ali,"  observed  his  master,  as  the  Nubian  entered  the 
chamber,  "you  have  frequently  explained  to  me  how  more 
than  commonly  skillful  you  are  in  throwing  the  lasso,  have 
you  not?" 


552  THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO. 

Ali  drew  himself  up  proudly,  and  then  returned  a  sign 
in  the  affirmative. 

"  I  thought  I  did  not  mistake.  "With  your  lasso  you 
could  stop  an  ox?" 

Again  Ali  repeated  his  affimative  gesture. 

"Or  a  tiger?" 

Ali  bowed  his  head  in  token  of  assent. 

"A  lion  even?" 

Ali  sprung  forward,  imitating  the  action  of  one  throw- 
ing the  lasso;  then  of  a  strangled  lion. 

"I  understand,"  said  Monte  Cristo,  "you  wish  to  tell 
me  you  have  hunted  the  lion?" 

Ali  smiled  with  triumphant  pride  as  he  signified  that  he 
had  indeed  both  chased  and  captured  many  lions. 

"  But  do  you  believe  you  could  arrest  the  progress  of 
two  horses  rushing  forward  with  ungovernable  fury?" 

The  Nubian  smiled. 

"  It  is  well,"  said  Monte  Cristo. 

"Then  listen  to  me.  Ere  long  a  carriage  will  dash  past 
here,  drawn  by  the  pair  of  dappled  gray  horses  you  saw 
me  with  yesterday;  now,  at  the  risk  of  your  own  life,  you 
must  manage  to  stop  those  horses  before  my  door." 

Ali  descended  to  the  street  and  marked  a  straight  line 
on  the  pavement  immediately  at  the  entrance  or  the  house, 
and  then  pointed  out  the  line  he  had  traced  to  the  count, 
who  was  watching  him.  The  count  patted  him  gently  on 
the  back,  his  usual  mode  of  praising  AH,  who,  pleased  and 
gratified  with  the  commission  assigned  him,  walked  calmly 
toward  a  projecting  stone  forming  the  angle  of  the  street 
and  house,  and,  seating  himself  thereon,  began  to  smoke 
his  chibouque,  while  Monte  Cristo  re-entered  his  dwelling, 
perfectly  assured  of  the  success  of  his  plan.  Still,  as  5 
o'clock  approached  and  the  carriage  was  momentarily  ex- 
pected by  the  count,  the  indication  of  more  than  common 
impatience  and  uneasiness  might  be  observed  in  his 
manner.  He  stationed  himself  in  a  room  commanding  a 
view  of  the  street,  pacing  the  chamber  with  restless  steps, 
stopping  merely  to  listen  from  time  to  time  for  the  sound 
of  approaching  wheels,  then  to  cast  an  anxious  glance  on 
Ali;  but  the  regularity  with  which  the  Nubian  puffed  forth 
the  smoke  of  his  chibouque  proved  that  he  at  least  was  wholly 
absorbed  in  the  enjoyment  of  his  favorite  occupation. 
Suddenly  a  distant  sound  of  rapidly-advancing  wheels  was 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO.  553 

heard,  and  almost  immediately  a  carriage  appeared,  drawn 
by  a  pair  of  wild,  ungovernable  horses,  who  rushed  forward 
as  though  urged  by  the  fiend  himself,  while  the  terrified 
coachman  strove  in  vain  to  restrain  their  furious  speed. 

In  the  vehicle  was  a  female,  apparently  young,  and  a 
child  of  about  7  or  8  years  of  age.  Terror  seemed  to  have 
deprived  them  even  of  the  power  of  uttering  a  cry,  and 
both  were  clasped  in  each  other's  arms,  as  though  deter- 
mined not  to  be  parted  by  death  itself.  The  carriage  creaked 
and  rattled  as  it  flew  over  the  rough  stones,  and  had  it  en- 
countered the  slightest  impediment  to  its  progress,  it  must 
inevitably  have  upset;  but  it  still  flew  on,  and  the  cries  of 
the  affrighted  spectators  testified  the  universal  sense  of 
the  imminent  peril  its  occupants  were  threatened  with. 

Then  Ali  knew  the  right  moment  was  come,  and,  throw- 
ing down  his  chibouque,  he  drew  the  lasso  from  his  pocket, 
threw  it  so  skillfully  as  to  catch  the  forelegs  of  the  near 
horse  in  its  triple  fold,  suffered  himself  to  be  dragged  on 
for  a  few  steps,  by  which  time  the  tightening  of  the 
well-cast  lasso  had  so  completely  hampered  the  furious  ani- 
mal as  to  bring  it  to  the  ground,  and  falling  on  the  pole, 
it  snapped,  and  therefore  prevented  the  other  animal  from 
pursuing  its  headlong  way.  Gladly  availing  himself  of  this 
opportunity,  the  coachman  leaped  from  his  box;  but  Ali 
had  promptly  seized  the  nostrils  of  the  second  horse,  and 
held  them  in  his  iron  grasp  till  the  maddened  beast,  snort- 
ing with  pain,  sunk  beside  his  companion.  All  this  was 
achieved  in  much  less  time  than  is  occupied  in  the  recital. 
The  brief  space  had,  however,  been  sufficient  for  an  indi- 
vidual, followed  by  a  number  of  servants,  to  rush  from  the 
house  before  which  the  accident  had  occurred,  and,  as  the 
coachman  opened  the  door  of  the  carriage  to  take  from  it 
a  lady  who  was  convulsively  grasping  the  cushions  with 
one  hand,  while  with  the  other  she  pressed  to  her  bosom 
her  young  companion  who  had  lost  all  consciousness  of 
what  was  -passing. 

Monte  Cristo  carried  them  both  to  the  salon  and  depos- 
ited them  on  a  sofa." 

"  Compose  yourself,  madame,"  said  he;  "  all  danger  is 
over." 

The  female  loooked  up  at  these  words,  and,  with  a  glance 
far  more  expressive  than  any  entreaties  could  have  been, 
pointed  to  her  child,  who  still  continued  insensible. 


554  THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRI8TO. 

"  I  understand  the  nature  of  your  alarms,  madame/' 
said  the  count,  carefully  examining  the  child,  "  but  I 
assure  you  there  is  not  the  slightest  occasion  for  uneasi- 
ness; your  little  charge  has  not  received  the  least  injury; 
his  insensibility  is  merely  the  effects  of  terror  and  will 
soon  cease." 

" Are  vou  quite  sure  you  do  not  say_  so  to  tranquilize  my 
fears?  See  how  deadly  pale  he  is!  My  child!  my  darling 
Edward!  speak  to  your  mother;  open  your  dear  eyes  and 
look  on  me  once  again!  Oh,  sir,  in  pity  send  for  help!  my 
whole  fortune  shall  not  be  thought  too  much  for  the  recov- 
ery of  my  blessed  boy." 

With  a  calm  smile  and  gentle  "wave  of  the  hand,  Monte 
Cristo  signed  to  the  distracted  mother  to  lay  aside  her 
apprehensions;  then,  opening  a  casket  that  stood  near, 
he  drew  forth  a  vial  composed  of  Bohemian  glass,  con- 
taining a  liquid  of  the  color  of  blood,  of  which  he  let  fall 
a  single  drop  on  the  child's  lips.  Scarcely  had  it  reached 
them  ere  the  boy,  though  still  pale  as  marble,  opened  his 
eyes  and  eagerly  gazed  around  him.  At  this  unhoped-for 
sight  the  wild  delight  of  the  mother  equaled  her  former 


' '  Where  am  I  ?"  exclaimed  she,  when  her  first  raptures 
at  her  son's  recovery  were  past;  "and  to  whom  am  I  in- 
debted for  so  happy  a  termination  to  my  late  dreadful 
alarm?" 

"  Madame,"  answered  the  count,  ' '  you  are  under  the 
roof  of  one  who  esteems  himself  most  fortunate  in  having 
been  able  to  save  you  from  a  further  continuance  of  your 
sufferings." 

"  My  wretched  curiosity  has  brought  all  this  about," 
pursued  the  lady.  "  All  Paris  rung  with  the  praises  of 
Mme.  Danglars'  beautiful  horses,  and  I  had  the  folly  to 
desire  to  know  whether  they  really  merited  the  high  char- 
acter given  them." 

"Is  it  possible,"  exclaimed  the  count,  with  well-feigned 
astonishment,  "  that  these  horses  belong  to  Mme.  la 
Baronne?" 

"They  do,  indeed.  May  I  inquire  if  you  are  acquainted 
with  Mme.  Danglars?" 

"I  have  that  honor;  and  my  happiness  at  your  escape 
from  the  danger  that  threatened  you  is  redoubled  by  the 
consciousness  that  I  have  been  the  unwilling  and  uuinten- 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRI8TO.  555 

tional  cause  of  all  the  peril  you  have  incurred.  I  yester- 
day purchased  these  horses  cf  the  baron;  but  as  the 
baroness  evidently  regretted  parting  with  them,  I  ventured 
to  send  them  back  to  her,  with  a  request  that  she  would 
gratify  me  by  accepting  them  from  my  hands." 

"You  are,  then,  doubtless,  the  Count  of  Monte  Cristo, 
of  whom  Hermine  has  talked  to  me  so  much?" 

"  You  have  rightly  guessed,  madame,"  replied  the 
count. 

"And  I  am  Mme.  Heloise  de  Villefort."  The  count 
bowed  with  the  air  of  a  person  who  hears  a  name  for  the 
first  time.  "How  grateful  will  M.  de  Villefort  be  for  all 
your  goodness;  how  thankful  will  he  acknowledge  that  to 
you  alone  it  is  owing  that  his  wife  and  child  exist!  Most 
certainly,  but  for  the  prompt  assistance  of  your  intrepid 
servant,  this  dear  child  and  myself  must  both  have  per- 
ished." 

"Indeed,  I  still  shudder  at  the  recollection  of  the  fear- 
ful danger  you  were  placed  in,  as  well  as  your  interesting 
child." 

"I  trust  you  will  not  object  to  my  offering  a  recom- 
pense to  your  noble-hearted  servant,  proportionate  to  the 
service  he  has  rendered  me  and  mine." 

"I  beseach  you,  madame,"  replied  Monte  Cristo,  "  not 
to  spoil  Ali,  either  by  too  great  praise  or  rewards.  I  can- 
not allow  him  to  acquire  the  habit  of  expecting  to  be 
recompensed  for  every  trifling  service  he  may  render.  Ali 
is  my  slave,  and  in  saving  your  life  he  was  but  discharging 
his  duty  to  me." 

"  Nay,"  interposed  Mme.  de  Villefort,  on  whom  the 
authoritative  style  adopted  by  the  count  made  a  deep  im- 
pression, "nay,  but  consider  that  to  preserve  my  life  he 
'has  risked  his  own." 

"His  life,  madame,  belongs  not  to  him;  it  is  mine,  in 
return  for  my  having  myself  saved  him  from  death." 

Mme.  de  Villefort  made  no  further  reply;  her  mind  was 
utterly  absorbed  in  the  contemplation  of  the  singular  in- 
dividual, who,  from  the  first  instant  of  her  beholding  him, 
had  made  so  powerful  an  impression  on  her.  During  the 
evident  preoccupation  of  Mme.  de  Villefort,  Monte  Cristo 
scrutinized  the  features  and  appearance  of  the  boy  she 
kept  folded  in  her  arms,  lavishing  on  him  the  most  ten- 
der endearments.  The  child  was  small  for  his  age,  and  un- 


556  THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRI8TO. 

naturally  pale.  A  mass  of  straight  black  hair,  defying 
all  attempts  to  train  or  curl  it,  fell  over  his  projecting 
forehead,  and  hung  down  to  his  shoulders,  giving  increased 
vivacity  to  eyes  already  sparkling  with  a  younthful  love  of 
mischief  and  fondness  for  every  forbidden  enjoyment. 
His  mouth  was  large,  and  the  lips,  which  had  not  yet  re- 
gained their  color,  were  particularly  thin;  in  fact,  the 
deep  and  crafty  look,  forming  the  principal  character  of 
the  child's  face,  belonged  rather  to  a  boy  of  12  or  14  years 
of  age  than  to  one  so  young.  His  first  movement  was  to 
free  himself  by  a  violent  push  from  the  encircling  arms  of 
his  mother,  and  to  rush  forward  to  the  casket  from 
whence  the  count  had  taken  the  vial  of  elixir,  then, 
without  asking  permission  of  any  one,  he  proceeded,  in  all 
the  willfulness  of  a  spoiled  child  unaccustomed  to  restrain 
either  whims  or  caprices,  to  pull  the  corks  out  of  all  the 
bottles  in  the  casket. 

"Touch  nothing,  my  little  friend,"  cried  the  count, 
eagerly;  "some  of  those  liquids  are  not  only  dangerous  to 
taste,  but  even  to  smell." 

Mme.  de  Villefort  became  very  pale,  and,  seizing  her 
son's  arm,  drew  him  anxiously  toward  her;  but,  once  sat- 
isfied of  his  safety,  she  also  cast  a  brief  but  expressive 
glance  on  the  casket,  which  was  not  lost  upon  the  count. 
At  this  moment  Ali  entered.  At  sight  of  him  Mme.  de 
Villefort  uttered  an  expression  of  pleasure,  and,  holding 
the  child  still  closer  toward  her,  she  said,  "Edward,  dear- 
est, do  you  see  that  good  man?  He  has  shown  very  great 
courage  and  resolution,  for  he  exposed  his  own  life  to  stop  the 
horses  that  were  running  away  with  us,  and  would  certainly 
have  dashed  the  carriage  to  pieces  ere  long.  Thank  him, 
then,  my  child,  in  your  very  best  manner;  for,  had  he  not 
come  to  our  aid,  neither  you  nor  I  would  have  been  alive 
to  speak  our  thanks."  This  address,  however,  excited  no 
similar  feeling  of  gratitude  on  the  part  of  the  child,  who, 
instead  of  obeying  his  mother's  directions,  stuck  out  his 
lips  and  turned  away  his  head  in  a  disdainful  and  con- 
temptuous manner,  saying,  "I  don't  like  him;  he's  too 
ugly  for  me!" 

The  count  witnessed  all  this  with  internal  satisfaction, 
and  a  smile  stole  over  his  features  as  he  thought  that  such 
a  child  bade  fair  to  realize  one  part  of  his  hopes;  while 
Mme.  de  Villefort  reprimanded  her  son  with  a  gentleness 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRI8TO.  55? 

and  moderation  very  far  from  conveying  the  least  idea  of  a 
fault  having  been  committed.  "  This  lady,"  said  the 
count,  speaking  to  Ali  in  the  Arabic  language,  ''is  desir- 
ous that  her  son  should  thank  you  for  saving  both  their 
lives;  but  the  boy  refuses,  saying  you  are  too  ugly!"  Ali 
turned  his  intelligent  countenance  toward  the  boy,  on 
whom  he  gazed  without  any  apparent  emotion;  but  the 
sort  of  spasmodic  working  of  the  nostrils  showed  to  the 
practiced  eye  of  Monte  Cristo  how  deeply  the  Arab  was 
wounded  by  the  unfeeling  remark. 

"Will  you  permit  me  to  inquire,"  said  Mme.  de  Ville- 
fort,  as  she  rose  to  take  her  leave,  "whether  you  usually 
reside  here?" 

"  No,  I  do  not,"  replied  Monte  Cristo;  "it  is  a  small 
place  I  have  purchased  quite  lately.  My  place  of  abode 
is  No.  30,  Avenue  des  Champs  Elysees;  but  I  am  delighted 
to  see  your  countenance  seems  expressive  of  a  perfect  re- 
turn to  tranquility.  You  have  quite  recovered  from  your 
fright,  and  are,  no  doubt,  desirous  of  returning  home. 
Anticipating  your  wishes,  I  have  desired  the  same  horses 
you  came  with  to  be  put  to  one  of  my  carriages,  and  Ali, 
he  whom  you  think  so  very  ugly,"  continued  he,  address- 
ing the  boy  with  a  smiling  air,  "will  have  the  honor  of 
driving  you  home,  while  your  coachman  remains  here  to  at- 
tend to  the  necessary  repairs  of  your  cale'che.  Directly  that 
important  business  is  concluded,  I  will  have  a  couple  of 
my  own  horses  harnessed  to  convey  it  direct  to  Mme. 
Danglars." 

"  I  dare  not  return  with  those  dreadful  horses,"  said 
Mme.  de  Villefort. 

"You  will  see,"  replied  Monte  Cristo,  "that  they  will 
be  as  different  as  possible  in  the  hands  of  Ali.  With  him 
they  will  be  gentle  and  docile  as  lambs."  Ali  had,  indeed, 
given  proof  of  this;  for,  approaching  the  animals,  who 
had  been  got  upon  their  legs  with  considerable  difficulty, 
he  rubbed  their  foreheads  and  nostrils  with  a  sponge 
soaked  in  aromatic  vinegar,  and  wiped  off  the  sweat  and 
foam  that  covered  their  mouths.  Then,  commencing  a 
loud  whistling  noise,  he  rubbed  them  well  all  over  their 
bodies  for  several  minutes;  and,  undisturbed  by  the  noisy 
crowd  collected  round  the  broken  carriage,  Ali  quietly 
harnessed  the  pacified  animals  to  the  count's  chariot,  took 
the  reins  in  his  hands,  and  mounted  the  box,  when  lo  !  to 


558  THE  CO  UNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO. 

the  utter  astonishment  of  those  who  had  witnessed  the 
ungovernable  spirit  and  maddened  velocity  of  the  same 
horses,  he  was  actually  compelled  to  apply  his  whip  in  110 
very  gentle  manner  ere  he  could  induce  them  to  start;  and 
even  then  all  that  could  be  obtained  from  the  celebrated 
"dappled  grays,"  now  changed  into  a  couple  of  as  dull, 
sluggish,  stupid  brutes  as  "the  most  timid  driver"  would 
desire  to  meet  with,  was  a  slow,  pottering  pace,  kept  up 
with  so  much  difficulty  that  Mme.  de  Villefort  was  more 
than  a  couple  of  hours  returning  to  her  residence  in  the 
Faubourg  St.  Honore. 

Scarcely  had  the  first  congratulations  upon  her  marvel- 
ous escape  been  gone  through  than  she  retired  to  her  own 
room,  ostensibly  for  the  purpose  of  seeking  a  little  repose, 
but  in  reality  to  write  the  following  letter  to  Mme.  Dang- 
lars- 

"DEAR  HERMMTE:  I  have  just  had  a  wonderful  escape 
from  the  most  imminent  danger,  and  I  owe  my  safety  to 
the  very  Count  of  Monte  Cristo  we  were  talking  about  yes- 
terday, but  whom  I  little  expected  to  see  to-day.  I  remem- 
ber how  unmercifully  I  laughed  at  what  I  considered  your 
eulogistic  and  exaggerated  praises  of  him;  but  I  have  now 
ample  cause  to  admit  that  your  enthusiastic  description  of 
this  wonderful  man  fell  far  short  of  his  merits.  But  I 
must  endeavor  to  render  the  account  of  my  adventures 
somewhat  more  intelligible.  You  must  know,  then,  my 
dear  friend,  that  when  I  proceeded  with  your  horses  as  far 
as  Eanelagh,  they  darted  forward  like  mad  things,  and  gal- 
loped away  at  so  fearful  a  rate  that  there  seemed  no  other 
prospect  for  myself  and  my  poor  Edward  but  that  of 
being  dashed  to  pieces  against  the  first  object  that  impeded 
their  progress,  when  a  strange-looking  man,  an  Arab  or  a 
Nubian — at  least  a  black  of  some  nation  or  other — at  a 
signal  from  the  count,  whose  domestic  he  is,  suddenly 
seized  and  stopped  the  infuriated  animals,  even  at  the  risk 
of  being  trampled  to  death  himself;  and  certainly  he  must 
have  had  a  most  wonderful  escape.  The  count  then  has- 
tened to  us  and  carried  myself  and  son  into  his  house, 
where,  by  some  skillful  application,  he  speedily  recalled 
my  poor  Edward  (who  was  quite  insensible  from  terror)  to 
life.  When  we  were  sufficiently  recovered  he  sent  us 
home  iu  his  own  carriage.  Yours  will  be  returned  to  you 


THE  CO  UNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO.  559 

to-morrow.  I  am  fearful  you  will  not  be  able  to  use  your 
horses  for  some  days;  they  seem  thoroughly  stupefied,  as  if 
sulky  and  vexed  at  having  allowed  this  black  servant  to 
conquer  them  after  all.  The  count,  however,  has  com- 
missioned me  to  assure  you  that  two  or  three  days'  rest, 
with  plenty  of  barley  for  their  sole  food  during  that  time, 
will  bring  them  back  to  their  former  fine  condition,  which 
means,  I  suppose,  that  they  will  be  ready  to  run  off  with 
the  carriage  again  and  play  their  wild  pranks  with  as  much 
headstrong  fury  as  they  evinced  yesterday;  do  not  let  them 
endanger  your  life,  dear  Hermine,  as  they  did  mine;  for 
Providence  may  not  send  a  Monte  Cristo  or  his  Nubian  ser- 
vant to  preserve  you  from  destruction,  as  it  did  me. 
Adieu!  I  cannot  return  you  many  thanks  for  the  drive  of 
yesterday;  but,  after  all,  I  ought  not  to  blame  you  for  the 
misconduct  of  your  horses,  more  especially  as  it  procured 
me  the  pleasure  of  an  introduction  to  the  Count  of  Monte 
Cristo,  and  certainly  that  illustrious  individual,  apart  from 
the  millions  he  is  said  to  be  so  very  anxious  to  dispose  of, 
seemed  to  me  one  of  those  curiously  interesting  problems  I, 
for  one,  delight  in  solving  at  any  risk  or  danger.  Nay,  so 
bent  am  I  on  following  up  my  acquaintance  with  this  re- 
markable personage,  that,  if  all  other  means  fail,  I  really 
believe  I  shall  have  to  borrow  your  horses  again  and  make 
another  excursion  to  the  Bois  de  Boulogne.  My  sweet 
Edward  supported  the  accident  with  admirable  courage;  he 
did  not  utter  a  single  cry,  but  fell  lifeless  into  my  arms; 
nor  did  a  tear  fall  from  his  eyes  after  it  was  over.  I  doubt 
not  you  will  consider  these  praises  the  result  of  blind 
maternal  affection,  but  the  delicate,  fragile  form  of  my 
beloved  child  contains  a  mind  of  no  ordinary  strength, 
with  the  heroic  firmness  of  a  Spartan  boy.  Valentine 
sends  many  affectionate  remembrances  to  your  dear  Eu- 
genie, and  with  best  love  to  her  and  yourself,  I  remain, 
"  Ever  yours,  truly, 

"  HELOISE  DE  VILLEFORT. 

"  P.  S. — Do,  pray,  contrive  some  means  for  my  meeting 
the  Count  of  Monte  Cristo  at  your  house.  I  must  and  will 
see  him  again.  I  have  just  made  M.  de  Villefort  promise 
to  call  on  him,  in  order  to  acknowledge  the  signal  service 
he  has  rendered  our  family  in  preserving  our  child,  if  my 
unworthy  self  goes  for  nothing,  and  I  flatter  myself  my 
husband's  visit  will  be  returned  by  the  count." 


560  THE  CO  UNT  OF  MONTE  GRI8TO. 

Nothing  was  talked  of  throughout  the  evening  but  the 
adventure  at  Auteuil.  Albert  related  it  to  his  mother, 
Chateau  Eenaud  recounted  it  at  the  Jockey  Club  and  De- 
bray  detailed  it  at  length  in  the  salons  of  the  minister; 
even  Beauchamp  accorded  twenty  lines  in  his  journal  to 
the  relation  of  the  count's  courage  and  gallantry,  thereby 
placing  him  as  the  greatest  hero  of  the  day  before  the  eyes 
of  all  the  fair  members  of  the  aristocracy  of  France.  Vast 
was  the  crowd  of  visitors  and  inquiring  friends  who  left 
their  names  at  the  hotel  of  Mme.  de  Villefort,  with  the 
design  of  renewing  their  visit  at  the  right  moment,  of 
hearing  from  her  lips  all  the  interesting  circumstances  of 
this  most  romantic  adventure.  As  Heloi'se  had  stated,  M. 
de  Villefort  donned  his  best  black  suit,  drew  on  a  pair  of 
new  white  kid  gloves,  ordered  the  servants  to  attend  the 
carriage  dressed  in  their  full  livery,  and  forthwith  drove  to 
the  hotel  of  the  count,  situated,  as  the  reader  is  already 
informed,  in  the  Avenue  des  Champs  Elysees. 


CHAPTER  XLVIII. 

IDEOLOGY. 

IF  the  Count  of  Monte  Cristo  had  lived  for  a  very  long 
time  in  Parisian  society  he  would  have  fully  appreciated 
the  value  of  the  step  which  M.  de  Villefort  had  taken. 
Standing  well  at  court,  whether  the  king  regnant  was  of 
the  elder  or  younger  branch,  whether  the  government  was 
doctrinaire,  liberal  or  conservative;  esteemed  clever  by  all, 
just  as  we  generally  esteem  those  clever  who  have  never 
experienced  a  political  check;  hated  by  many,  but  warmly 
protected  by  others,  without  being  really  liked  by  any- 
body, M.  de  Villefort  held  a  high  position  in  the  magis- 
tracy, and  maintained  his  eminence  like  a  Harlay  or  a 
Mole.  His  drawing-room,  regenerated  by  a  young  wife 
and  a  daughter  by  his  first  marriage,  scarcely  18,  was  still 
one  of  those  well-regulated  Paris  salons  where  the  worship 
of  traditional  customs  and  the  observance  of  rigid  etiquette 
were  carefully  maintained.  A  freezing  politeness,  a  strict 
fidelity  to  government  principles,  a  profound  contempt  for 
theories  and  theorists,  a  deep-seated  hatred  of  ideality — 


THE,  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRI8TO.  561 

these  were  the  elements  of  private  ami  public  life  dis- 
played by  M.  de  Villefort. 

M.  de  Villefort  was  not  only  a  magistrate,  he  was 
almost  a  diplomatist.  His  relations  with  the  ancient  court, 
of  which  he  always  spoke  with  dignity  and  respect,  made  him 
respected  by  the  new  one,  and  he  knew  so  many  things  that 
not  only  was  he  always  carefully  considered,  but  some- 
times consulted.  Perhaps  this  would  not  have  been  so 
had  it  been  possible  to  get  rid  of  M.  de  Villefort;  but,  like 
the  feudal  barons  who  rebelled  against  their  sovereign,  he 
dwelt  in  an  impregnable  fortress.  This  fortress  was  his 
post  as  proeurer  du  roi,  all  the  advantages  of  which  he 
worked  out  marvelously,  and  which  he  would  not  have 
resigned  but  to  be  made  deputy,  and  thus  have  converted 
neutrality  into  opposition.  Ordinarily  M.  de  Villefort 
made  and  returned  very  few  visits.  His  wife  visited  for 
him,  and  this  was  the  received  thing  in  the  world,  where 
they  assigned  to  the  heavy  and  multifarious  occupations  of 
the  magistrate  what  was  really  only  a  calculation  of  pride, 
an  off-shoot  of  aristocracy — in  fact,  the  application  of  the 
axiom,  "  Pretend  to  think  well  of  yourself  and  the  world 
will  think  well  of  you;"  an  axiom  a  hundred  times  more 
useful  in  our  society  than  that  of  the  Greeks'  "  Know 
thyself,"  a  knowledge  for  which  in  our  days  we  have  sub- 
stituted the  less  difficult  and  more  advantageous  science  of 
knowing  others. 

For  his  friends  M.  de  Villefort  was  a  powerful  protector; 
for  his  enemies  he  was  a  silent  but  bitter  enemy;  for  those 
who  were  neither  the  one  nor  the  other,  he  was  a  statue 
of  the  law  made  man.  Haughty  air,  immovable  counte- 
nance, look  steady  and  impenetrable,  or  else  insultingly 
piercing  and  inquiring,  such  was  the  man  for  whom  four 
revolutions,  skillfully  piled  one  on  the  other,  had  first  con- 
structed and  afterward  cemented  the  pedestal  on  which  his 
fortune  was  elevated.  M.  de  Villefort  had  the  reputation 
of  being  the  least  curious  and  the  least  wearisome  man  in 
France.  He  gave  a  ball  every  year  at  which  he  appeared 
for  a  quarter  of  an  hour  only — that  is  to  say,  five-and-forty 
minutes  less  than  the  king  is  visible  at  his  balls.  He  was 
never  seen  at  the  theaters,  at  concerts  or  in  any  place  of 
public  resort.  Occasionally,  but  seldom,  he  played  at 
whist,  and  then  care  was  taken  to  select  partners  worthy 
of  him — sometimes  they  were  embassaaors,  sometimes 


562  THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO. 

archbishops,  or  sometimes  a  prince,  or  a  president  or  some 
dowager  duchess.  Such  was  the  man  whose  carriage  had 
just  now  stopped  before  the  Count  of  Monte  Cristo's  door. 
The  valet  de  chambre  announces  M.  de  Villefort  at  the 
moment  when  the  count,  leaning  over  a  large  table,  was 
tracing  on  a  map  the  route  from  St.  Petersburg  to  China. 

The  procureur  du  roi  entered  with  the  same  grave  and 
measured  step  he  would  have  employed  in  entering  a  court 
of  justice.  He  was  the  same  man,  or  rather  the  com- 
pletion of  the  same  man,  whom  we  have  heretofore  seen  as 
substitute  at  Marseilles.  Nature,  following  up  its  principles, 
had  changed  nothing  for  him  in  the  course  he  had  chalked 
out  for  himself.  From  slender  he  had  become  meagre; 
from  pale,  yellow;  his  deep-set  eyes  were  now  hollow,  and 
gold  spectacles,  as  they  shielded  his  eyes,  seemed  to  make 
a  portion  of  his  face.  All  his  costume  was  black,  with  the 
exception  of  his  white  cravat,  and  this  funeral  appearance 
was  only  broken  in  upon  by  the  slight  line  of  red  ribbon  which 
passed  almost  imperceptibly  through  his  button-hole,  and 
which  appeared  like  a  streak  of  blood  traced  with  a  pencil. 
Although  master  of  himself,  Monte  Cristo  scrutinised  with 
irrepressible  curiosity  the  magistrate,  whose  salute  he  re- 
turned, and  who,  distrustful  by  habit,  and  especially  in- 
credulous as  to  social  marvels,  was  much  more  disposed  to 
see  in  the  noble  stranger,  as  Monte  Cristo  was  already 
called  a  chevalier  d'indnstrie,  who  had  come  to  try  new 
ground,  or  some  malefactor  who  had  broken  his  prescribed 
limits,  than  a  prince  of  the  Holy  See,  or  a  sultan  of  the 
"Arabian  Nights." 

"Sir,"  said  Villefort,  in  the  tone  assumed  by  magistrates 
in  their  oratorical  periods,  and  of  which  they  cannot,  or 
will  not,  divest  themselves  in  society — "  sir,  the  signal 
service  which  you  yesterday  rendered  to  my  wife  and  son 
has  made  it  a  duty  in  me  to  offer  you  my  thanks.  Allow 
me,  therefore,  to  discharge  this  duty,  and  to  express  to  you 
all  my  gratitude."  And  as  he  said  this,  the  "eye  severe" 
of  the  magistrate  had  lost  nothing  of  its  habitual  arro- 
gance. These  words  he  articulated  in  the  voice  of  a  pro- 
cureitr-general,  with  the  rigid  inflexibility  of  neck  and 
shoulders  which  caused  his  flatterers  to  say  (as  we  have 
said  before)  that  he  was  the  living  statue  of  the  law. 

"  Monsieur,"  replied  the  count,  with  a  chilling  air,  "I 
am  very  happy  to  have  been  the  means  of  preserving  a  son 


THE  GO  UNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO  563 

to  his  mother,  for  they  say  that  the  sentiment  of  maternity 
is  the  most  holy  of  all;  and  the  good  fortune  which  occured 
to  me,  monsieur,  might  have  enabled  you  to  dispense  with 
a  duty  which,  in  its  discharge,  confers  an  undoubtedly 
great  honor;  for  I  am  aware  that  M.  de  Villefort  is  not 
lavish  of  the  favor  he  bestows  on  me,  but  which,  however, 
estimable,  is  unequal  to  the  satisfaction  which  I  internally 
experience."  Villefort,  astonished  at  this  reply,  which  he 
by  no  means  expected,  started  like  a  soldier  who  feels  the 
blow  levelled  at  him  over  the  armor  he  wears,  and  a  curl  of 
his  disdainful  lip  indicated  that  from  that  moment  he 
noted  in  the  tablets  of  his  brain  that  the  Count  of  Monte 
Cristo  was  by  no  means  a  highly-bred  gentleman.  He 
glanced  around,  in  order  to  seize  on  something  on  which 
the  conversation  might  turn,  and  seemed  to  fall  easily. 
He  saw  the  map  which  Monte  Cristo  had  been  examining 
when  he  entered,  and  said:  "  You  seem  geographically 
engaged,  sir  ?  It  is  a  rich  study  for  you,  who,  as  I  learn, 
have  seen  as  many  lands  as  are  delineated  on  this  map." 

"  Yes,  sir,"  replied  the  count;  "I  have  sought  to  make 
on  the  human  race,  taken  as  a  mass,  what  you  practise 
every  day  on  individuals — a  physiological  study.  I  have 
believed  it  was  much  easier  to  descend  from  the  whole  to  a 
part  than  to  ascend  from  a  part  to  the  whole.  It  is  an 
algebraic  axiom,  which  makes  us  proceed  from  a  known  to 
an  unknown  quantity,  and  not  from  an  unknown  to  a 
known;  but  sit  down,  sir,  I  beg  of  you." 

Monte  Cristo  pointed  to  a  chair,  which  the  procureur  de 
roi  was  obliged  to  take  the  trouble  to  move  forward  hini- 
Belf,  while  the  count  merely  fell  back  into  his  own,  on 
which  he  had  been  kneeling  when  M.  Villefort  entered. 
Thus  the  count  was  half-way  turned  toward  his  visitor, 
having  his  back  toward  the  window,  his  elbow  resting  on 
the  geographical  chart  which  afforded  the  conversation  for 
the  moment — a  conversation  which  assumed,  as  had  done 
those  with  Dauglars  and  Morcerf,  a  turn  analogous  to  the 
persons,  if  not  to  the  situation.  "Ah,  you  philosophize," 
replied  Villefort,  after  a  moment's  silence,  during  which, 
like  a  wrestler  who  encounters  a  powerful  opponent,  he 
took  breath;  "well,  sir,  really,  if,  like  you,  I  had  nothing 
else  to  do,  I  should  seek  a  more  amusing  occupation." 

"  AVhy,  in  truth,  sir,"  was  Monte  Cristo's  reply,  "man 
is  but  an  ugly  caterpillar  for  him  who  studies  him  through 


564  THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO. 

a  solar  microscope;  but  you  said,  I  think,  that  I  had 
nothing  else  to  do.  Now,  really,  let  me  ask,  sir,  have  you? 
do  you  believe  you  have  anything  to  do  ?  or  to  speak  in 
plain  terms,  do  you  really  think  that  what  you  do  deserves 
being  called  anything  ?" 

Villefort's  astonishment  redoubled  at  this  second 
thrust  so  forcibly  made  by  his  strange  adversary.  It 
was  a  long  time  since  the  magistrate  had  heard  a 
paradox  so  strong,  or  rather,  to  say  the  truth  more 
exactly,  it  was  the  first  time  he  had  ever  heard  of  it. 
The  procureur  du  roi  exerted  himself  to  reply.  "Sir," 
he  responded,  "you  are  a  stranger,  and  I  believe 
you  say  yourself  that  a  portion  of  your  life  has  been  spent 
in  Oriental  countries  ;  thus,  then,  you  are  not  aware  how 
human  justice,  so  expeditious  in  barbarous  countries,  takes 
with  us  a  prudent  and  well-studied  course." 

"  Oh,  yes — yes,  I  do,  sir,  it  is  the  pede  claudo  of  the 
ancients.  I  know  all  that,  for  it  is  with  the  justice  of  all 
countries  especially  that  I  have  occupied  myself — it  is  with 
the  criminal  procedure  of  all  nations  that  I  have  compared 
natural  justice,  and  I  must  say,  sir,  that  it  is  the  law  of 
primitive  nations,  that  is,  the  law  of  retaliation,  that  I 
have  most  frequently  found  to  be  according  to  the  law  of 
God." 

"  If  this  law  were  adopted,  sir,"  said  the  procureur  du 
roi,  "  it  would  greatly  simplify  our  legal  codes,  and  in  that 
case  the  magistrates  would  not,  as  you  have  just  observed, 
have  much  to  do." 

"  It  may,  perhaps,  come  to  this  in  time,"  observed 
Monte  Cristo  ;  "  you  know  that  human  inventions  march 
from  the  complex  to  the  simple,  and  simplicity  is  always 
perfection." 

"  In  the  meanwhile,"  continued  the  magistrate,  "  our 
codes  are  in  full  force  with  all  their  contradictory  enact- 
ments derived  from  Gallic  customs,  Roman  laws,  and 
Frank  usages  ;  the  knowledge  of  all  which,  you  will  agree, 
is  not  to  be  acquired  without  lengthened  labor,  and  it  requires 
a  tedious  study  to  acquire  this  knowledge,  and  when  that 
is  acquired,  a  strong  power  of  brain  is  necessary  in  order  to 
retain  it." 

"  I  agree  with  you,  entirely,  sir ;  but  all  that  even  you 
know  with  respect  to  the  French  code,  I  know,  not  only  in 
reference  to  that  code,  but  as  regards  the  codes  of  all 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO.  565 

nations — the  English,  Turkish,  Japanese,  Hindoo  laws,  are 
as  familiar  to  me  as  the  French  laws,  and  thus  I  was  right, 
when  I  said  to  you,  that  relatively — you  know  that  every- 
thing is  relative,  sir — that  relatively  to  what  I  have  done, 
you  have  very  little  to  do  ;  but  that  relatively  to  all  I  have 
learned,  you  have  yet  a  great  deal  to  learn." 

"  But  with  what  motive  have  you  learned  all  this?"  in- 
quired Villefort,  astonished. 

Monte  Cristo  smiled. 

"  Really,  sir,"  he  observed,  "  I  see  that  in  spite  of  the 
reputation  which  you  have  acquired  as  a  superior  man,  you 
contemplate  everything  in  the  material  and  vulgar  view  of 
society,  beginning  with  man,  and  ending  with  man — that 
is  to  say,  in  the  most  restricted,  most  narrow  view  which  it 
is  possible  for  human  understanding  to  embrace." 

"  Pray,  sir,  explain  yourself,"  said  Villefort,  more  and 
more  astonished,  "  I  really  do — not — understand  you — per- 
fectly." 

"  I  say,  sir,  that  with  the  eyes  fixed  on  the  social  or- 
ganization of  nations,  you  see  only  the  springs  of  the 
machine,  and  lose  sight  of  the  sublime  workman  who 
makes  them  act ;  I  say  that  you  do  not  recognize  before 
you  and  around  you  any  but  those  placemen  whose  brevets 
have  been  signed  by  the  minister  or  the  king  ;  and  that 
the  men  whom  God  has  put  above  those  titulars,  ministers, 
and  kings,  by  giving  them  a  mission  to  follow  out,  instead 
of  a  post  to  fill — I  say  that  they  escape  your  narrow, 
.limited  ken.  It  is  thus  that  human  weakness  fails,  from 
its  debilitated  and  imperfect  organs.  Tobias  took  the 
angel  who  restored  him  to  light  for  an  ordinary  young 
man.  The  nations  took  Attila,  who  was  doomed  to  de- 
stroy them,  for  a  conqueror  merely  similar  to  other  con- 
querors, and  it  was  necessary  for  both  to  reveal  their  mis- 
sions, that  they  might  be  known  and  acknowledged  ;  one 
was  compelled  to  say  :  '  I  am  the  angel  of  the  Lord;'  and 
the  other,  'I  am  the  hammer  of  God/  in  order  that  the 
Divine  essence  in  both  might  be  revealed." 

"  Then,"  said  Villefort,  more  and  more  amazed,  and 
really  supposing  he  was  speaking  to  a  mystic  or  a  madman, 
"you  consider  yourself  as  one  of  those  extraordinary  beings 
whom  you  have  mentioned?" 

"And  why  not?"  said  Monte  Cristo,  coldly. 

"Your  pardon  sir,"  replied  Villefort,  quite  astounded, 


566  THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO. 

"  but  you  will  excuse  me  if,  when  I  presented  myself  to 
you,  I  was  unaware  that  I  should  meet  with  a  person  whose 
knowledge  and  understanding  so  far  surpass  the  usual 
knowledge  and  understanding  of  men.  It  is  not  usual 
with  us,  corrupted  wretches  of  civilization,  to  find  gentle- 
men like  yourself,  possessors,  as  you  are,  of  immense  for- 
tune— at  least,  so  it  is  said — and  I  beg  you  to  observe  that 
I  do  not  inquire,  I  merely  repeat ;  it  is  not  usual,  I  say,  for 
such  privileged  and  wealthy  beings  to  waste  their  time  in 
speculations  on  the  state  of  society,  in  philosophical 
reveries,  intended  at  best  to  console  those  whom  fate  has 
disinherited  from  the  goods  of  this  world." 

"  Keally,  sir,"  retorted  the  count,  "  have  you  attained 
the  eminent  situation  in  which  you  are,  without  having 
admitted,  or  even  without  having  met  with  exceptions? 
and  do  you  never  use  your  eyes,  which  must  have  acquired 
so  much  finesse  and  certainty,  to  divine,  at  a  glance,  the 
kind  of  man  who  has  come  before  you?  Should  not  a 
magistrate  be  not  merely  the  best  administration  of  the 
law,  but  the  most  crafty  expounder  of  the  chicanery  of  his 
profession,  a  steel  probe  to  search  hearts,  a  touchstone  to 
try  the  gold  which  in  each  soul  is  mingled  with  more  or 
less  of  alloy?" 

"  Sir,"  said  Villefort,  "  upon  my  word,  you  overcome 
me.  I  really  never  heard  a  person  speak  as  you  do." 

"  Because  you  remain  eternally  encircled  in  a  round  of 
general  conditions,  and  have  never  dared  to  raise  your 
wing  into  those  upper  spheres  which  God  has  peopled  with, 
invisible  or  marked  beings." 

"And  you  allow  then,  sir,  that  spheres  exist,  and  that 
these  marked  and  invisible  beings  mingle  among  us?" 

"  Why  should  they  not?  Can  you  see  the  air  you 
breathe,  and  yet  without  which  you  could  not  for  a  moment 
exist?" 

"  Then  we  do  not  see  those  beings  to  whom  you 
allude?" 

"  Yes,  we  do ;  you  see  them  whenever  God  pleases  to 
allow  them  to  assume  a  maternal  form.  You  touch  them, 
come  in  contact  with  them,  speak  to  them,  and  they  reply 
to  you." 

"Ah  !"  said  Villefort,  smiling,  "  I  confess  I  should  like 
to  be  warned  when  one  of  these  beings  is  in  cor. tact  with 
me." 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CR18TO  567 

"  You  have  been  served  as  you  desire,  monsieur,  for  you 
have  been  warned  just  now,  and  I  now  again  warn  you/' 

"  Then  you  yourself  are  one  of  these  marked  beings?" 

"  Yes,  monsieur,  I  believe  so  ;  for  until  now,  no  man 
has  found  himself  in  a  position  similar  to  mine.  The 
dominions  of  kings  are  limited  either  my  mountains  or 
rivers,  or  a  change  of  manners,  or  an  alteration  of  language. 
My  kingdom  is  bounded  only  by  the  world,  for  I  am  neither 
an  Italian,  or  a  Frenchman,  nor  a  Hindoo,  nor  an  Ameri- 
can, nor  a  Spaniard — I  am  a  cosmopolite.  No  country  can 
say  it  saw  my  birth.  God  alone  knows  what  country  will 
see  me  die.  I  adopt  all  customs,  speak  all  languages. 
You  believe  me  to  be  a  Frenchman,  for  I  speak  French 
with  the  same  facility  and  purity  as  yourself.  Well,  Ali, 
my  Nubian,  believes  me  to  be  an  Arab;  Bertuccio,  my 
steward,  takes  me  for  a  Roman  ;  Hayd6e,  my  slave,  thinks 
me  a  Greek.  You  may,  therefore,  comprehend,  that  being 
of  no  country,  asking  no  protection  from  any  govern- 
ment, acknowledging  no  man  as  my  brother,  not  one 
of  the  scruples  that  arrest  the  powerful,  or  the  ob- 
stacles which  paralyzed  the  weak,  paralyze  or  arrest 
me.  I  have  only  two  adversaries — I  will  not  say  two 
conquerors,  for  with  perseverance  I  subdue  even  them, 
though  they  are  time  and  distance.  There  is  a  third,  and 
the  most  terrible — that  is  my  condition  as  a  mortal  being. 
This  alone  can  stop  me  in  my  onward  career,  and  before  I 
have  attained  the  goal  at  which  I  aim,  for  all  the  rest  I  have 
calculated.  What  men  call  the  chances  of  fate — namely, 
ruin,  change,  circumstances — I  have  anticipated  them  all; 
and  if  any  of  these  should  overtake  me,  yet  they  will  not 
overwhelm  me.  Unless  I  die,  I  shall  always  be  what  I  am, 
and,  therefore,  it  is  that  I  utter  the  things  you  have  never 
heard,  even  from  the  mouths  of  kings — for  kings  have 
need  and  other  persons  have  fear  of  you.  For  who  is  there 
who  does  not  say  to  himself,  in  society  as  incongruously 
organized  as  ours,  *  Perhaps  some  day  I  shall  have  to  do 
with  the  procureur  du  roi?'" 

"  But  can  you  not  say  that,  sir?  For  the  moment  you 
become  an  inhabitant  of  France  you  are  naturally  subjected 
to  the  French  law." 

"  I  know  it,  sir,"  replied  Monte  Cristo;  "  but  when  I 
visit  a  country  I  begin  to  study,  by  all  the  means  which 
are  available,  the  men  from  whom  1  may  have  anything  to 


568  THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO. 

hope  or  to  fear,  until  I  know  them  as  well,  perhaps  better, 
than  they  know  themselves.  It  follows  from  this  that  the 
procureur  du  roi,  be  he  who  he  may,  with  whom  I  should 
have  to  deal,  would  assuredly  be  more  embarrassed  than  I 
should." 

"  That  is  to  say,"  replied  Villefort,  with  hesitation, 
"  that  human  nature,  being  weak,  every  man,  according 
to  your  creed,  has  committed  faults." 

"  Faults  or  crimes,"  responded  Monte  Cristo,  with  a 
,  negligent  air. 

"  And  that  you  alone,  among  the  men  whom  you  do  not 
recognize  as  your  brothers — for  you  have  said  so,"  ob- 
served Villefort,  in  a  tone  that  faltered  somewhat—"  you 
alone  are  perfect." 

"  No,  not  perfect,"  was  the  count's  reply,  "  only  im- 
penetrable, that's  all.  But  let  us  leave  off  this  strain,  sir, 
if  the  tone  of  it  is  displeasing  to  you;  I  am  no  more  dis- 
turbed by  your  justice  than  you  are  by  my  second-sight." 

"  No!  no! — by  no  means,"  said  Villefort,  who  was  afraid 
of  seeming  to  abandon  his  ground.  "  No;  by  your  bril- 
liant and  almost  sublime  conversation  you  have  elevated 
me  above  the  ordinary  level;  we  no  longer  talk,  we  rise  to 
dissertation.  But  you  know  how  the  theologians,  in  their 
collegiate  chairs,  and  philosophers,  -m  their  controversies, 
occasionally  say  cruel  truths;  let  us  suppose  for  a  moment 
that  we  are  theologizing  in  a  social  way,  or  even  philo- 
sophically, and  I  will  say  to  you,  rude  as  it  may  seem, 
'  My  brother,  you  sacrifice  greatly  to  pride;  you  may  be 
above  others,  but  above  you  there  is  God.'" 

"  Above  us  all,  sir,"  was  Monte  Cristo's  response,  in  a 
tone  and  with  an  emphasis  so  deep  that  Villefort  involun- 
tarily shuddered.  "I  have  my  pride  for  men — serpents 
always  ready  to  erect  themselves  against  every  one  who 
may  pass  without  crushing  them.  But  I  lay  aside  that 
pride  before  God,  who  has  taken  me  from  nothing  to  make 
me  what  I  am." 

"  Then,  M.  le  Cointe,  I  admire  you,"  said  Villefort,  who, 
for  the  first  time  in  this  strange  conversation,  used  the 
aristocratical  form  to  the  unknown  personage,  whom,  until 
now,  he  had  only  called  monsieur.  "  Yes,  and  I  say  to 
you,  if  you  are  really  strong,  realty  superior,  really  pious, 
or  impenetrable,  which  you  were  right  in  saying  amounts 
to  the  same  thing — yet  be  proud,  sir,  that  is  the  character- 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRI8TO.  569 

istic  of  predominance — yet  you  have  unquestionably  some 
ambition." 

"  I  have,  sir." 

"  And  what  may  it  be?" 

"  I,  too,  as  happens  to  every  man  once  in  his  life,  have 
been  taken  by  Satan  into  the  highest  mountain  in  the  earth, 
and  when  there  he  showed  me  all  the  kingdoms  of  the 
earth,  and,  as  he  said  before,  so  said  he  to  me,  *  Child  of 
earth,  what  wouldst  thou  have  to  make  thee  adore  me?' 
I  reflected  long,  for  a  gnawing  ambition  had  long  prayed 
upon  me,  and  then  I  replied:  'Listen — I  have  always  heard 
tell  of  Providence,  and  yet  I  have  never  seen  Him,  nor 
anything  that  resembles  Him,  or  which  can  make  me 
believe  that  He  exists.  I  wish  to  be  Providence  myself, 
for  I  feel  that  the  most  beautiful,  noblest,  most  sublime 
thing  in  the  world  is  to  recompense  and  punish.'  Satan 
bowed  his  head  and  groaned.  '  You  mistake/  he  said; 
'  Providence  does  exist,  only  you  have  never  seen  Him,  be- 
cause the  child  of  God  is  as  invisible  as  the  parent.  You 
have  seen  nothing  that  resembles  Him,  because  He  works 
by  secret  springs  and  moves  by  hidden  ways.  All  I  can  do 
for  you  is  to  make  you  one  of  the  agents  of  that  Provi- 
dence.' The  bargain  was  concluded.  I  may  sacrifice  my 
soul,  but  what  matters  it?"  added  Monte  Cristo.  "  If  the 
thing  were  to  do  again,  I  would  again  do  it." 

Villefort  looked  at  Monte  Cristo  with  extreme  amaze- 
ment. 

"  M.  le  Comte,"  he  inquired,  "  have  you  any  rela- 
tions?" 

"  No,  sir,  I  am  alone  in  the  world." 

"  So  much  the  worse." 

'•<  Why?"  asked  Monte  Cristo. 

"  Because  then  you  might  witness  a  spectacle  calculated 
to  break  down  your  pride.  You  say  you  fear  nothing  but 
death  ?" 

"  1  did  not  say  that  I  feared  it;  I  only  said  that  that 
alone  could  check  me." 

"  And  old  age?" 

"  My  end  will  be  achieved  before  I  grow  old." 

"  And  madness?" 

"  I  have  been  nearly  mad,  and  you  know  the  axiom — 
non  bis  in  idem.  It  is  an  axiom  of  criminal  law,  and,  con- 
sequently, you  understand  its  full  application." 


570  THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CKISTO. 

"  Sir,"  continued  Villefort,  "  there  is  something  to  fear 
besides  death,  old  age  and  madness.  For  instance,  there 
is  apoplexy — that  lightning  stroke  which  strikes  but  does 
not  destroy  you,  and  yet  after  which  all  is  ended.  You  are 
still  yourself,  as  now,  and  yet  you  are  yourself  no  longer; 
you  who,  like  Ariel,  touch  on  the  angelic,  are  but  an  inert 
mass,  which,  like  Caliban,  touches  on  the  brutal;  and  this 
is  called  in  human  tongues,  as  I  tell  you,  neither  more  nor 
less  than  apoplexy.  Come,  if  so  you  will,  M.  le  Comte, 
and  continue  this  conversation  at  my  house,  any  day  you 
may  be  willing  to  see  an  adversary  capable  of  understand* 
ing  and  willing  to  refute  you,  and  I  will  show  you  my 
father,  M.  Noirtier  de  Villefort,  one  of  the  most  fiery 
Jacobins  of  the  French  Revolution;  that  is  to  say,  the 
most  remarkable  audacity,  seconded  by  a  most  powerful 
organization — a  man  who,  perhaps,  has  not,  like  yourself, 
seen  all  the  kingdoms  of  the  earth,  but  who  has  helped  to 
overturn  one  of  the  most  powerful;  in  fact,  a  man  who, 
like  you,  believed  himself  one  of  the  envoys — not  of  God, 
but  of  a  Supreme  Being;  not  of  Providence,  but  of  Fate. 
"Well,  sir,  the  rupture  of  a  blood-vessel  on  the  lobe  of  the 
brain  has  destroyed  all  this — not  in  a  day,  not  in  an  hour, 
but  in  a  second.  M.  Noirtier,  who,  on  the  previous  night, 
was  the  old  Jacobin,  the  old  senator,  the  old  Carbonaro, 
laughing  at  the  guillotine,  laughing  at  the  cannon,  laugh- 
ing at  the  dagger — M.  Noirtier,  playing  with  revolutions — 
M.  Noirtier,  for  whom  France  was  a  vast  chess-board, 
from  which  pawns,  rooks,  knights  and  queens  were  to  dis- 
appear, so  that  the  king  was  checkmated — M.  Noirtier,  so 
redoubted,  was  the  next  morning  poor  M.  Noirtier,  the 
helpless  old  man,  at  the  tender  mercies  of  the  weakest 
creature  in  the  household,  that  is,  his  grandchild,  Valen- 
tine; a  dumb  and  frozen  carcass,  in  fact,  who  only  lives 
without  suffering,  that  time  may  be  given  to  his  frame  to 
decompose  without  his  consciousness  of  his  decay." 

"Alas,  sir!"  said  Monte  Cristo,  "this  spectacle  is 
neither  strange  to  my  eye  nor  my  thought.  I  am  some- 
thing of  a  physician  and  have  like  my  fellows,  sought  more 
than  once  for  the  soul  in  living  and  in  dead  matter;  yet, 
like  Providence,  it  has  remained  invisible  to  my  eyes, 
although  present  to  my  heart.  A  hundred  writers  since 
Socrates,  Seneca,  St.  Augustin  and  Gall,  have  made  in 
verse  and  prose,  the  comparison  you  have  made  and  yet 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRI8TO.  571 

I  can  well  understand  that  a  father's  sufferings  may  effect 
great  changes  in  the  mind  of  a  son.  I  will  call  on  you, 
sir,  since  you  bid  me  contemplate,  for  the  advantage  of  my 
pride,  this  terrible  spectacle,  which  must  spread  so  much 
sorrow  throughout  your  house." 

"  It  would  have  done  so  unquestionably,  had  not  God 
given  me  so  large  a  compensation.  In  presence  of  the  old 
man,  who  is  dragging  his  way  to  the  tomb,  are  two  children 
just  entering  into  life — Valentine,  the  daughter  by  my  first 
wife,  Mdlle.  Renee  de  Saint-Meran  and  Edward,  the  boy 
whose  life  you  have  this  day  saved. " 

"  And  what  is  your  deduction  from  this  compensation, 
sir?"  inquired  Monte  Cristo. 

"  My  deduction  is,"  replied  Villefort,  "that  my  father, 
led  away  by  his  passions,  has  committed  some  fault  un- 
known to  human  justice  but  marked  by  the  justice  of  God. 
That  God,  desirous  in  his  mercy  to  punish  but  one  person, 
has  visited  this  justice  on  him  alone." 

Monte  Cristo,  with  a  smile  on  his  lips,  had  yet  a  groan 
at  his  heart,  which  would  have  made  Villefort  fly  had  he 
but  heard  it. 

"Adieu,  sir,"  said  the  magistrate,  who  had  risen  from 
his  seat;  "  I  leave  you,  bearing  a  remembrance  of  you — a 
remembrance  of  esteem,  which  I  hope  will  not  be  disagree- 
able to  you  when  you  know  me  better;  for  I  am  not  a  man 
to  bore  my  friends,  as  you  will  learn.  Besides,  you  have 
made  an  eternal  friend  of  Mme.  de  Villefort." 

The  count  bowed  and  contented  himself  with  seeing 
Villefort  to  the  door  of  his  cabinet,  the  procureur  being 
escorted  to  his  carriage  by  two  footmen,  who,  on  a  signal 
from  their  master  followed  him  with  every  mark  of  atten- 
tion. When  he  had  gone,  Monte  Cristo  drew  a  hard  breath 
from  his  oppressed  bosom  and  said: 

"  Enough  of  this  poison,  let  me  now  seek  the  antidote/' 
Then  sounding  his  bell,  he  said  to  Ali,  who  entered,  "  I 
am  going  to  madame's  chamber — have  the  carriage  ready 
at  1  o'clock. 


572  THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CR1STO. 

CHAPTER  XLIX. 

H  A  Y  D  E  E. 

IT  WILL  be  recollected  that  the  new,  or  rather  old, 
acquaintance  of  the  Count  of  Monte  Cristo,  residing  in  the 
Rue  Meslay,  were  no  other  than  Maximillian,  Julie  and 
Emmanuel.  The  very  anticipations  of  delight  to  be  en- 
joyed in  his  forthcoming  visits — the  bright,  pure  gleam  of 
heavenly  happiness  it  diffused  over  the  almost  deadly  war- 
fare in  which  he  had  voluntarily  engaged,  illumined  his 
whole  countenance  with  a  look  of  ineffable  joy  and 
calmness,  as,  immediately  after  the  departure  of  Villefort, 
his  thoughts  flew  back  to  the  cheering  prospect  before  him, 
of  tasting,  at  least,  a  brief  respite  from  the  fierce  and 
stormy  passions  of  his  mind.  Even  Ali,  who  had  hastened 
to  obey  the  count's  summons,  went  forth  from  his  master's 
presence  in  charmed  amazement  at  the  unusual  animation 
and  pleasure  depicted  on  features  ordinarily  so  stern  and 
cold;  while,  as  though  dreading  to  put  to  flight  the  agree- 
able ideas  hovering  over  his  patron's  meditations,  whatever 
they  were,  the  faithful  Nubian  walked  on  tiptoe  toward 
the  door,  holding  his  breath,  lest  its  faintest  sound  should 
dissipate  his  master's  happy  reverie. 

It  was  the  hour  of  noon  and  Monte  Cristo  had  set  apart 
one  hour  to  be  passed  in  the  apartments  of  Haydee;  as 
though  his  so-long-crushed  spirit  could  not  all  at  once  ad- 
mit the  feeling  of  pure  and  unmixed  joy,  but  required  a 
gradual  succession  of  calm  and  gentle  emotions  to  prepare 
his  mind  to  receive  full  and  perfect  happiness,  in  the  same 
manner  as  ordinary  natures  demand  to  be  inured  by  degrees 
to  the  reception  of  strong  or  violent  sensations.  The 
young  Greek,  as  we  have  already  stated,  occupied  apart- 
ments wholly  unconnected  with  those  of  the  count.  The 
rooms  had  been  fitted  up  in  strict  accordance  with  the 
eastern  style;  that  is  to  say,  the  floors  were  covered  with 
fhe  richest  carpets  Turkey  could  produce;  the  walls  hung 
with  brocaded  silk  of  the  most  magnificent  designs  and 
texture;  while  around  each  chamber,  luxurious  divans  were 
placed,  with  piles  of  soft  and  yeilding  cushions,  that  needed 
only  to  be  arranged  at  the  pleasure  or  convenience  of  such 
as  sought  repose.  Haydee's  female  establishment  consisted 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  GRI8TO.  573 

of  three  French  attendants,  and  a  fourth,  who  was  like 
herself,  a  native  of  the  climes  of  Greece.  The  three  first 
remained  constantly  in  a  small  waiting-room,  ready  to 
obey  the  first  sound  of  a  small,  golden  bell  or  to  receive 
the  orders  of  the  Romaic  slave,  who  just  knew  sufficient 
French  to  be  enabled  to  transmit  her  mistress'  orders  to 
the  three  other  waiting-women,  who  had  received  most 
peremptory  instructions  from  Monte  Cristoto  treat  Haydee 
with  all  the  respect  and  deference  they  would  observe  to  a 
queen. 

The  fair  Greek  herself  generally  passed  her  time  in  the 
apartment  forming  the  extremity  of  the  suite  of  rooms  as- 
signed to  her.  It  was  a  species  of  boudoir,  circular  and 
lighted  only  from  the  top,  which  consisted  of  pale,  pink 
glass.  Haydee  was  reclining  upon  soft,  downy  cushions, 
covered  with  blue  satin  spotted  with  silver;  her  head  sup- 
ported by  one  of  her  exquisitely  molded  arms,  rested  on 
the  divan  immediately  behind  her,  while  the  other  was 
employed  in  adjusting  to  her  lips  the  coral  tube  of  a  rich 
narguillah,  whose  flexible  pipe,  placed  amid  the  coolest  and 
most  fragrant  essences,  permitted  not  the  perfumed  vapor 
to  ascend  until  fully  impregnated  with  the  rich  odors  of  the 
most  delicious  flowers.  Her  attitude,  though  perfectly 
natural  for  an  eastern  female,  would  have  been  deemed 
too  full  of  coquettish  straining  after  effect  in  a  European. 
Her  dress,  which  was  that  of  the  women  of  Epirus,  con- 
sisted of  a  pair  of  white  satin  trousers,  embroidered  with 
pink  roses,  displaying  feet  so  exquisitely  formed  and  so 
delicately  fair,  that  they  might  well  have  been  taken  for 
Parian  marble,  had  not  the  eye  been  undeceived  by  their 
constantly  shifting  in  and  out  of  the  fairy-like  slippers  in 
which  they  were  encased;  these  tiny  coverings  were  beauti- 
fully ornamented  with  gold  and  pearls  and  turned  up  at 
the  point;  a  blue  and  white -striped  vest,  with  long,  open 
sleeves,  trimmed  with  silver  loops  and  buttons  of  pearls. 
She  also  wore  a  species  of  bodice,  which,  closing  only  from 
the  center  to  the  waist,  exhibited  the  whole  of  the  ivory 
throat  and  upper  part  of  the  bosom;  three  magnificent 
diamond  clasps  fastened  it  where  requisite.  The  junction 
of  the  bodice  and  drawers  were  entirely  concealed  by  one 
of  those  many-colored  scarfs,  whose  brilliant  hues  and  rich, 
silken  fringe  have  rendered  them  so  precious  in  the  eyes  of 
Parisian  belles.  A  small  cap  of  gold,  embroidered  with 

DUMAS — VOL.  I. — 26 


574  THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO. 

pearls,  was  placed  with  tasteful  elegance  on  one  side  of  the 
fair  Greek's  head;  while,  on  the  other,  a  natural  rose,  of 
that  dark  crimson,  almost  inclining  to  purple,  mingled  its 
glowing  colors  with  the  luxurient  masses  of  her  hair, 
which,  for  jetty  luster,  outrivalled  the  raven's  wing.  The 
extreme  beauty  of  the  countenance,  that  shone  forth  in 
loveliness  that  mocked  the  vain  attempts  of  dress  to  aug- 
ment it,  was  peculiarly  and  purely  Grecian;  there  were  the 
large,  dark,  melting  eyes,  the  finely-formed  nose,  the  coral 
lips  and  pearly  teeth,  that  belonged  to  her  race  and 
country.  And  to  complete  the  whole,  Haydee  was  in  the 
very  springtime  and  fullness  of  youthful  charms — she  had 
not  yet  numbered  more  than  eighteen  summers. 

Upon  Monte  Cristo  entering  the  apartments  of  the  fair 
girl,  he  summoned  her  Greek  attendant,  and  bade  her  in- 
quire whether  it  would  be  agreeable  to  her  mistress  to  re- 
ceive his  visit.  HaydeVs  only  reply  was  to  direct  her 
servant  by  a  sign  to  withdraw  the  tapestried  curtain  that 
hung  before  the  door  of  her  boudoir,  the  frame- work  of 
the  opening  thus  made  serving  as  a  sort  of  border  to  the 
graceful  tableau  presented  by  the  picturesque  attitude  and 
appearance  of  Haydee.  As  Monte  Cristo  approached,  she 
leaned  upon  the  elbow  of  the  arm  that  held  the  narguillah, 
and  extending  to  him  her  other  hand,  said,  with  a  smile 
of  captivating  sweetness,  in  the  sonorous  language  spoken 
by  the  females  of  Athens  and  Sparta,  "Why  demand  per- 
mission ere  you  enter?  Are  you  no  longer  my  master,  or 
have  I  ceased  to  be  your  slave?" 

Monte  Cristo  returned  her  smile. 

"  Haydee,"  said  he/ 'you  well   know — 

"  Why  do  yon  address  me  so  coldly — so  distantly," 
asked  the  fair  Greek.  "Have  I  by  any  means  displeased 
you?  Oh,  if  so,  punish  me  as  you  will;  but  do  not — do 
not  speak  to  me  in  tones  and  manner  so  formal  and  con- 
strained! " 

"  Listen  to  me,  Haydee,"  replied  the  count.  "I  was 
about  to  remind  you  of  a  circumstance  you  are  perfectly 
acquainted  with;  namely,  that  we  are  now  in  France,  and 
that  you  are  consequently  free." 

"Free!"  repeated  the  fair  girl.  "Of  what  use  would 
freedom  be  to  me?" 

"It  would  enable  you  to  quit  me." 

"Quit  you!     Wherefore  should  I  do  so?" 


THE  CO  UNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO.  575 

"That  is  not  for  me  to  say;  but  we  are  now  about  to 
mix  in  society — to  visit  and  be  visited." 

"I  desire  to  see  no  one  but  yourself." 

"Nay,  but  hear  me,  Hayd^e.  You  cannot  remain  in 
seclusion  in  the  midst  of  this  gay  capital;  and  should  you 
see  one  whom  you  could  prefer,  think  not  I  would  be  so 
selfish  or  unjust  as  to 

"No,  no!  answered  Haydee,  with  energetic  warmth, 
"that  can  never  be.  No  man  could  appear  charming  in 
my  eyes  but  yourself.  None  save  yourself  and  my  father 
have  ever  possessed  my  affection;  nor  will  it  be  bestowed 
upon  any  other." 

"My  poor  child!"  replied  Monte  Cristo,  "that  is  merely 
because  your  father  and  myself  are  the  only  men  with 
whom  you  have  ever  conversed." 

"And  what  care  I  for  all  others  in  the  world!  My 
father  called  me  his  joy — you  style  me  your  love — and  both 
of  you  bestowed  on  me  the  endearing  appellation  of  your 
childl" 

"Do  you  remember  your  father,  Haydee?"  The  young 
Greek  smiled. 

"He  is  here,  and  here,"  said  she,  touching  her  eyes  and 
her  heart. 

"And  where  am  I?"  inquired  Monte  Cristo. 

"You?"  cried  she,  with  tones  of  thrilling  tenderness, 
"you  are  everywhere!" 

Monte  Cristo  took  the  delicate  hand  of  the  young  girl 
in  his,  and  was  about  to  raise  it  to  his  lips,  when  the  simple 
child  of  nature  hastily  withdrew  it,  and  presented  her  fair 
cheek  instead. 

"You  now  understand,  Haydee,"  said  the  count,  "that 
from  this  moment  you  are  absolutely  free;  that  here  you 
exercise  unlimited  sway,  and  are  at  liberty  to  lay  aside  or 
continue  the  costume  of  your  country,  as  it  may  suit  your 
inclination.  Within  this  mansion  you  are  absolute  mis- 
tress of  your  actions,  and  may  go  abroad  or  remain  in 
your  apartments  as  may  seem  most  agreeable  to  you.  A 
carriage  waits  your  orders,  and  Ali  and  Myrta  will  accom- 
pany you  whithersoever  you  desire  to  go.  There  is  but  one 
favor  I  would  entreat  of  you." 

"Oh  speak!" 

"Preserve  most  carefully  the  secret  of  your  birth.  Make 
no  allusion  to  your  past;  nor  upon  any  occasion  be  induced 


576  THE  CO  UNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO. 

to  pronounce  the  names  of  your  illustrious  father  or  ill- 
fated  mother!" 

"I  have  already  told  my  lord  it  is  not  my  intention  to 
hold  converse  with  any  one  save  himself." 

"It  is  possible,  Haydee,  that  so  perfect  a  seclusion, 
though  conformable  with  the  habits  and  customs  of  the 
east,  may  not  be  practicable  in  Paris.  Endeavor,  then,  to 
accustom  yourself  to  our  manner  of  living  in  these  north- 
ern climes,  as  you  did  to  those  of  Eome,  Florence,  Milan 
and  Madrid;  it  may  be  useful  to  you  one  of  these  days, 
whether  you  remain  here  or  return  to  the  east." 

The  fair  girl  raised  her  tearful  eyes  toward  Monte  Cristo 
as  she  said  with  touching  earnestness,  "My  lord  would 
mean  whether  we  return  to  the  east  or  continue  here, 
would  he  not?" 

"My  child,"  returned  Monte  Cristo,  "you  know  full 
well,  that  whenever  we  part,  it  will  be  by  no  fault  or  wish 
of  mine;  the  tree  forsakes  not  the  blossom  that  embel- 
lishes it— it  is  the  flower  that  falls  from  the  tree  on  which 
it  grew." 

"My  lord,"  replied  Haydee,  "never  will  I  quit  you,  for 
sure  I  am  I  could  not  exist  if  banished  from  your  presence; 
alas!  what  would  life  be  worth  then?" 

"My  poor  girl,  you  forget  that  ten  years  will  effect  an 
essentially  ditferent  change  in  both  of  us;  to  you  that 
space  of  time  will  bring  but  the  perfection  of  womanly 
graces,  while  it  will  wrinkle  my  brows  and  change  my  hair 
to  gray." 

"My  father  had  numbered  60  years,  and  the  snows  of 
age  were  on  his  head,  but  I  admired  and  loved  him  far 
better  than  all  the  gay,  handsome  youths  I  saw  about  his 
court." 

"Then  tell  me,  Haydee,  do  you  believe  you  shall  be  able 
to  accustom  yourself  to  our  present  mode  of  life?" 

"Shall  I  see  you?" 

"Every  day." 

"Then  what  does  my  lord  apprehend  for  me?" 

"I  fear  your  growing  weary." 

"Nay,  my  lord,  that  cannot  be.  In  the  morning,  I  shall 
rejoice  in  the  prospect  of  your  coming,  and  in  the  even- 
ing dwell  with  delight  on  the  happiness  I  have  enjoyed  in 
your  presence;  then,  too,  when  alone,  I  can  call  forth 
mighty  pictures  of  the  past,  see  vast  horizons  bounded 


THE  CO UNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO.  577 

only  by  the  towering  mountains  of  Pindus  and  Olympus. 
Oh,  believe  me,  that  when  three  great  passions,  such  as 
sorrow,  love  and  gratitude,  fill  the  heart,  ennui  can  find 
no  pi  ace. " 

"You  are  a  worthy  daughter  of  Epirus,  Haydee,  and 
your  charming  and  poetical  ideas  prove  well  your  descent 
from  that  race  of  goddesses  who  claim  your  country  as 
their  birth-place;  depend  on  my  care  to  see  that  your 
youth  is  not  blighted,  or  suffered  to  pass  away  in  ungenial 
solitude;  and  of'  this  be  well  assured,  that  if  you  love  me 
as  a  father,  I,  in  my  turn,  feel  for  you  all  the  affection  of 
the  fondest  parent." 

"Let  not  my  lord  be  deceived;  the  love  I  bear  you  re- 
sembles in  no  degree  my  feelings  toward  my  father;  I 
survived  his  death;  but  were  any  evil  to  befall  you,  the 
moment  in  which  I  learned  the  fatal  tidings,  would  be  the 
last  of  my  life." 

The  count,  with  a  look  of  indescribable  tenderness,  ex- 
tended his  hand  to  the  animated  speaker,  who  carried  it 
reverentially  and  affectionately  to  her  lips.  Monte  Cristo, 
thus  soothed  and  calmed  into  a  befitting  state  of  mind  to 
pay  his  visit  to  the  Morrels,  departed,  murmuring  as  he 
went  these  lines  of  Pindar,  "Youth  is  a  flower  of  which 
love^  is  the  fruit;  happy  is  he  who,  after  having  watched 
its  silentgrowth,  is  permitted  to  gather  and  call  it  his 
own."  The  carriage  was  prepared  according  to  orders, 
and  stepping  lightly  into  it,  the  count  drove  off  at  his 
usual  rapid  pace. 


CHAPTER  L. 

THE   MORREL    FAMILY. 

IN  A  very  few  minutes  the  count  reached  No.  7  in  the 
Rue  Meslay.  The  house  was  of  white  stone,  and  in  a 
small  court  before  it  were  two  small  beds  full  of  beautiful 
flowers.  In  the  concierge  that  opened  the  gate  the  count 
recognized  Codes;  but  as  he  had  but  one  eye  and  that  eye 
had  considerably  weakened  in  the  course  of  nine  years, 
Coclds  did  not  so  readily  recognize  the  count.  The  car- 
riages that  drove  up  to  the  door  were  compelled  to  turn, 
to  avoid  a  fountain  that  played  in  a  basin  of  rockwork, 


578  THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO. 

in  which  sported  a  quantity  of  gold  and  silver  fishes,  an 
ornament  that  had  excited  the  jealousy  of  the  whole  quar- 
ter, and  had  gained  for  the  house  the  appellation  of  "le 
Petit  Versailles."  The  house,  raised  above  the  kitchens  and 
cellars,  had,  besides  the  ground  floor,  two  stories  and  attics. 
The  whole  of  the  property,  consisting  of  an  immense  work- 
shop, two  pavilions  at  the  bottom  of  the  garden  and  the  gar- 
den itself,  had  been  purchased  by  Emmanuel,  who  had  seen 
at  a  glance  that  he  could  make  a  profitable  speculation  of  it. 
He  had  reserved  the  house  and  half  the  garden,  and  build- 
ing a  wall  between  the  garden  and  the  workshops,  had  let 
them  upon  lease  with  the  pavilions  at  the  bottom  of  the 
garden.  So  that  for  a  trifling  sum  he  was  as  well  lodged 
and  as  perfectly  shut  out  from  observation,  as  the  inhabi- 
tants of  the  finest  hotel  in  the  Faubourg  St.  Germain. 
The  breakfast-room  was  of  oak;  the  salon  of  mahogany 
and  blue  velvet;  the  bedroom  of  citronwood  and  green 
damask;  there  was  a  study  for  Emmanuel,  who  never 
studied,  and  a  music-room  for  Julie,  who  never  played. 
The  whole  of  the  second  story  was  set  apart  for  Maxi- 
milian; it  was  precisely  the  same  as  his  sister's  apart- 
ments, except  that  the  breakfast-parlor  was  changed  into 
a  billiard-room,  where  he  received  his  friends  He  was 
superintending  the  dressing  of  his  horse  and  smoking  his 
cigar  at  the  entrance  of  the  garden  when  the  count's  car- 
riage stopped  at  the  door. 

Codes  opened  the  gate,  and  Baptistin,  springing  from 
the  box,  inquired  whether  M.  and  Mme.  Herbault  and  M. 
Maximilian  Morrel  would  see  M.  le  Comte  de  Monte 
Cristo. 

"  M.  le  Comte  de  Monte  Cristo/'  cried  Morrel,  throw- 
ing away  his  cigar  and  hastening  to  the  carriage;  ' '  I 
should  think  we  would  see  him.  Ah!  a  thousand  thanks, 
M.  le  Comte,  for  not  having  forgotten  your  promise." 

And  the  young  officer  shook  the  count's  hand  so  warmly 
that  the  latter  could  not  be  mistaken  as  to  the  sincerity  of 
his  joy,  and  he  saw  that  he  had  been  expected  with  im- 
patience and  was  received  with  pleasure. 

"  Come,  come!"  said  Maximilian,  "  I  will  serve  as  your 
guide;  such  a  man  as  you  are  ought  not  to  be  introduced 
by  a  servant.  My  sister  is  in  the  garden  plucking  the  dead 
roses;  my  brother  reading  his  two  papers,  la  Presse  and  les 
Debats,  within  five  steps  of  her,  for  whenever  you  see  Mme. 


THE  CO  UNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO.  579 

Herbault,  you  have  only  to  look  within  a  circle  of  four 
yards  and  you  will  find  M.  Emmanuel,  and  '  riciprocally/ 
as  they  say  at  the  Ecole  Poly  tech  nique." 

At  the  sound  of  their  steps  a  young  woman  of  20  to  25, 
dressed  in  a  silk  robe-de-chambre  and  busily  engaged  in 
plucking  the  dead  leaves  off  the  splendid  rose-tree,  raised 
her  head.  This  female  was  Julie,  who  had  become,  as  the 
clerk  of  the  house  of  Thomson  &  French  had  predicted, 
Mme.  Emmanuel  Herbault.  She  uttered  a  cry  of  sur- 
prise at  the  sight  of  a  stranger,  and  Maximilian  began  to 
laugh. 

"Don't  disturb  yourself,  Julie,"  said  he.  "  M.  le 
Comte  has  only  been  two  or  three  days  in  Paris,  but  he 
already  knows  what  a  woman  of  fashion  of  the  Marais  is, 
and  if  does  not,  you  will  show  him." 

"Ah,  monsieur!"  returned  Julie,  "  it  is  treason  in  my 
brother  to  bring  you  thus,  but  he  never  has  any  regard  for 
his  poor  sister.  Penelon!  Penelon!" 

An  old  man  who  was  digging  busily  at  one  of  the  beds 
of  roses,  stuck  his  spade  in  the  earth  and  approached,  cap 
in  hand  and  striving  to  conceal  a  quid  of  tobacco  he  had 
just  thrust  into  his  cheek.  A  few  locks  of  gray  mingled 
with  his  hair,  which  was  still  thick  and  matted,  while  his 
bronzed  features  and  determined  glance  announced  the 
old  sailor  who  had  braved  the  heat  of  the  equator  and  the 
storms  of  the  tropics. 

"  I  think  you  hailed  me,  Mdlle.  Julie?"  said  he. 

Penelon  had  still  preserved  the  habit  of  calling  his 
master's  daughter  "  Mdlle.  Julie,"  and  had  never  been 
able  to  change  the  name  to  Mme.  Herbault. 

"  Penelon,"  replied  Julie,  "  go  and  inform  M.  Emman- 
ual  of  this  gentleman's  visit,  and  Maximilian  will  conduct 
him  to  the  salon." 

Then,  turning  to  Monte  Cristo: 

"  I  hope  you  will  permit  me  to  leave  you  for  a  few  min- 
utes," continued  she;  and  without  awaiting  any  reply,  dis 
appeared  behind  a  clump  of  trees,  and  entered  the  house 
by  a  lateral  alley. 

"I  am  sorry  to  see,"  observed  Monte  Cristo  to  Morrel, 
*'  that  I  cause  no  small  disturbance  in  your  house." 

"  Look  there,"  said  Maximiliam,  laughing;  "  there  is 
her  husband  changing  his  jacket  for  a  coat.  I  assure  you, 
you  are  well  known  in  the  Eue  Meslay." 


580  THE  CO  UNT  OF  MONTE  CRI8TO. 

"Your  family  appears  to  be  a  very  happy  one!"  said  the 
count  as  if  speaking  to  himself. 

"  Oh,  yes,  I  assure  you,  M.  le  Comte,  they  want  nothing 
that  can  render  them  happy;  they  are  young  and  cheerful, 
they  are  tenderly  attached  to  each  other,  and  with  25,000 
francs  a  year  they  fancy  themselves  as  rich  as  Kothschild." 

"  Twenty-five  thousand  francs  is  not  a  large  sum,  how- 
ever," replied  Monte  Cristo,  with  a  tone  so  sweet  and  gentle 
that  it  went  to  Maximilian's  heart  like  the  voice  of  a  father; 
"  but  they  will  not  be  content  with  that;  your  brother-in- 
law  is  a  barrister?  a  doctor?" 

"  He  was  a  merchant,  M.  le  Comte,  and  had  succeeded 
to  the  business  of  my  poor  father.  M.  Morrel,  at  his 
death,  left  500,000  francs  (£20,000),  which  were  divided 
between  my  sister  and  myself,  for  we  were  his  only  chil- 
dren. Her  husband,  who,  when  he  married  her,  had  no 
other  patrimony  than  his  noble  probity,  his  first-rate 
ability,  and  his  spotless  reputation,  wished  to  possess  as 
much  as  his  wife.  He  labored  and  toiled  until  he  had 
amassed  250,000  francs;  six  years  sufficed. to  achieve  this 
object.  Oh,  I  assure  you,  M.  le  Comte,  it  was  a  touching 
spectacle  to  see  these  young  creatures,  destined  by  theii 
talents  for  higher  stations,  toiling  together,  and  who, 
unwilling  to  change  any  of  the  customs  of  their  paternal 
house,  took  six  years  to  accomplish  that  which  innovators 
would  have  effected  in  two  or  three.  Marseilles  resounded 
with  their  well-earned  praises.  At  last,  one  day,  Em- 
manuel came  to  his  wife,  who  had  just  finished  making 
up  the  accounts.  '  Julie/  said  he  to  her,  'Codes  has  just 
given  me  the  last  rouleau  of  a  100  francs;  that  completes 
the  250,000  francs  we  had  fixed  as  the  limits  of  our 
gains.  Can  you  content  yourself  with  the  small  fortune 
which  we  shall  possess  for  the  future?  Listen  to  me. 
Our  house  transacts  business  to  the  amount  of  a  1,000,000 
a  year,  from  which  we  derive  an  income  of  40,000  francs. 
"We  can  dispose  of  the  business,  if  we  please,  in  an  hour, 
for  I  have  received  a  letter  from  M.  Delaunay,  in  which 
he  offers  to  purchase  the  goodwill  of  the  house,  to  unite 
with  his  own,  for  300,000  francs.  Advise  me  what  I  had 
better  do/ 

"  'Emmanuel,'  returned  my  sister,  'the  house  of  Morrel 
can  only  be  carried  on  by  a  Morrel.  Is  it  not  worth  300,- 
000  francs  to  save  our  father's  name  from  the  chances  of 
evil  fortune  and  failure  ?' 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONIB  CRI8TO.  581 

'"I  thought  so,'  replied  Emmanuel;  *  but  I  wished  to 
have  your  advice.' 

" '  This  is  my  counsel:  Our  accounts  are  made  up  and  our 
bills  paid ;  all  we  have  to  do  is  to  stop  the  issue  of  any 
more,  and  close  our  office/  This  was  done  instantly.  It 
was  3  o'clock;  at  a  quarter  past,  a  merchant  presented 
himself  to  insure  two  ships;  it  was  a  clear  profit  of  15,000 
francs.  *  Monsieur/  said  Eir,mauel,  'have  the  goodness 
to  address  yourself  to  M.  Delaunay.  We  have  quitted 
business.' 

"  '  How  long  ?*  inquired  the  astonished  merchant. 

"  '  A  quarter  of  an  hour/  was  the  reply. 

"And  this  is  the  reason,  monsieur/*  continued  Maxi- 
milian, "of  my  sister  and  brother-in-law  having  only  25,- 
000  francs  a  year/' 

Maximilian  had  scarcely  finished  his  story,  during  which 
the  count's  heart  had  seemed  ready  to  burst,  when  Em- 
manuel entered,  clad  in  a  hat  and  coat.  He  saluted  the 
count  with  the  air  of  a  man  who  is  aware  of  the  rank^of 
his  guest;  then,  after  having  led  Monte  Cristo  round  the 
little  garden,  he  returned  to  the  house.  A  large  vase  of 
Japan  porcelain,  filled  with  flowers  that  impregnated  the 
air  with  their  perfume,  stood  in  the  salon.  Julie,  suitably 
dressed,  and  her  hair  arranged  (she  had  accomplished  this 
feat  in  less  than  ten  minutes)  received  the  count  on  his 
entrance.  The  songs  of  the  birds  were  heard  in  an  aviary 
hard  by — the  branches  of  false  ebony-trees  and  rose- 
acacias  forming  the  border  of  the  blue  velvet  curtains. 
Everything  in  this  charming  retreat,  from  the  warble 
of  the  birds  to  the  smile  of  the  mistress,  breathed 
tranquillity  and  repose.  The  count  had  felt,  from  the 
moment  he  entered  the  house,  the  influence  of  this  happi- 
ness, and  he  remained  silent  and  pensive,  forgetting  that 
he  was  expected  to  recommence  the  conversation,  which 
had  ceased  after  the  first  salutations  had  been  exchanged. 
He  perceived  the  pause,  and,  by  a  violent  effort,  tearing 
himself  from  his  pleasing  reverie — "Madame,"  said  he  at 
length,  "I  pray  you  to  excuse  my  emotion,  which  must 
astonish  you  who  are  only  accustomed  to  the  happiness  I 
meet  here;  but  satisfaction  is  so  new  a  sight  to  me,  that  I 
could  never  be  weary  of  looking  at  yourself  and  your  hus- 
band." 

"  We  are  very  happy,  monsieur/'  replied  Julie;  "  but 


582  THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO. 

we  have  also  known  unhanpiness,  and  few  have  ever  un- 
dergone more  bitter  sufferings  than  ourselves."  The  count's 
features  displayed  an  expression  of  the  most  intense 
curiosity. 

"  Oh,  all  this  is  a  family  history,  as  Chateau  Renaud 
told  you  the  other  day,"  observed  Maximilian.  "  This 
humble  picture  would  have  but  little  interest  for  you,  ac- 
customed as  you  are  to  behold  the  pleasures  and  the  mis- 
fortunes of  the  wealthy  and  illustrious;  but  such  as  we  are, 
we  have  experienced  bitter  sorrow." 

"  And  God  has  poured  balm  into  your  wounds,  as  He 
does  to  all  those  who  are  in  affliction  ?"  said  Monte  Cristo, 
inquiringly. 

"Yes  M.  le  Comte,"  returned  Julie,  "we  may  indeed 
say  He  has,  for  He  has  done  for  us  what  He  grants  only 
to  His  chosen;  He  sent  us  one  of  His  angels." 

The  count's  cheeks  became  scarlet,  and  he  coughed,  in 
order  to  have  an  excuse  for  putting  his  handkerchief  to  his 
mouth. 

"  Those  born  to  wealth,  and  who  have  the  means 
of  gratifying  every  wish,"  said  Emmanuel,  "know  not 
what  is  the  real  happiness  of  life;  just  as  those  who  have 
been  tossed  on  the  stormy  waters  of  the  ocean  on  a  few 
frail  planks  can  alone  estimate  the  value  of  a  clear  and 
serene  sky." 

Monte  Cristo  rose,  and  without  making  any  answer  (for 
the  tremulousness  of  his  voice  would  have  betrayed  his 
emotion)  walked  up  and  down  the  apartment  with  a  slow 
step. 

"Our  magnificence  makes  you  smile,  M.  le  Comte,"  said 
Maximilian,  who  had  followed  him  with  the  eyes. 

"Ho,  no,"  returned  Monte  Cristo,  pale  as  death,  press- 
ing one  hand  on  his  heart  to  still  its  throbbings,  while 
with  the  other  he  pointed  to  a  crystal  cover,  beneath  which 
a  silken  purse  lay  on  a  black  velvet  cushion.  "  I  was 
wondering  what  could  be  the  use  of  this  purse,  which  con- 
tains a  paper  at  one  end  and  at  the  other  a  large  diamond." 

"M.  le  Comte,"  replied  Maximilian,  with  an  air  of 
gravity,  "  those  are  our  most  precious  family  treasures." 

"  The  stone  seems  very  brilliant,"  answered  the  count. 

"Oh,  my  brother  does  not  allude  to  its  value,  although 
it  has  been  estimated  at  100,000  francs  (£4,000;)  he  means, 
that  the  articles  contained  in  this  purse  are  the  relics  of 
the  angel  I  spoke  of  just  now." 


THE  CO  UNT  OF  MONTE  CRI8TO.  583 

"  This  I  do  not  comprehend;  and  yet  may  not  I  ask  for 
an  explanation,  madame,"  replied  Monte  Cristo,  bowing. 
"Pardon  me,  I  had  no  intention  of  committing  an  indis- 
cretion." 

"  Indiscretion  !  oh,  you  make  us  happy  by  giving  us  an 
occasion  of  expatiating  on  this  subject.  Did  we  intend  to 
conceal  the  noble  action  his  purse  commemorates,  we 
should  not  expose  it  thus.  Oh  I  would  we  could  relate  it 
everywhere;  and  to  everyone;  so  that  the  emotion  of  our 
unknown  benefactor  might  reveal  his  presence." 

"  Ah  !  really,"  said  Monte  Cristo,  in  a  half-stifled  voice. 

"  Monsieur,"  returned  Maximilian,  raising  the  glass 
cover,  and  respectfully  kissing  the  silken  purse,  "  this  has 
touched  the  hand  of  a  man  who  saved  my  father  from 
suicide,  us  from  ruin,  and  our  name  from  shame  and  dis- 
grace— a  man  by  whose  matchless  benevolence  we,  poor 
children,  doomed  to  want  and  wretchedness,  can  at  present 
hear  every  one  envying  our  happy  lot.  This  letter  (as  he 
spoke,  Maximilian  drew  a  letter  from  the  purse  and  gave 
it  to  the  count) — "  this  letter  was  written  by  him  the  day 
that  my  father  had  taken  a  desperate  resolution,  and  this 
diamond  was  given  by  the  generous  unknown  to  my  sister 
as  her  dowry." 

Monte  Cristo  opened  the  letter,  and  read  it  with  an  in- 
describable feeling  of  delight.  It  was  the  letter  written 
(as  our  readers  know)  to  Julie,  and  signed  "  Sinbad  the 
Sailor." 

"  Unknown  you  say,  is  the  man  who  rendered  you  this 
service — unknown  to  you  ?" 

"Yes;  we  have  never  had  the  happiness  of  pressing  his 
hand,"  continued  Maximilian.  "  We  have  supplicated 
heaven  in  vain  to  grant  us  this  favor,  but  all  the  affair  has 
had  a  mysterious  direction  we  cannot  comprehend — all  has 
been  guided  by  a  hand  invisible,  but  powerful  as  that  of 
an  enchanter." 

"  Oh  !"  cried  Julie,  "I  have  not  lost  all  hope  of  some 
day  kissing  that  hand,  as  I  now  kiss  the  purse  which  he 
has  touched.  Four  years  ago,  Penelon  was  at  Trieste — 
Penelon,  M.  le  Comte,  is  the  old  sailor  you  saw  in  the 
garden,  and  who,  from  quartermaster,  has  become  gardener 
— Penelon,  when  he  was  at  Trieste,  saw  on  the  quay  an 
Englishman,  who  was  on  the  point  of  embarking  on  board 
a  yacht,  and  he  recognized  him  as  a  person  who  called  on 


584  THE  CO  UNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO. 

my  father  the  5th  of  June,  1829,  and  who  wrote  me  this 
letter  on  the  5th  of  September.  He  felt  convinced  of  his 
identity,  but  he  did  not  venture  to  address  him." 

"An  Englishman  !"  said  Monte  Gristo,  who  grew  uneasy 
at  the  attention  with  which  Julie  looked  at  him.  ''An 
Englishman,  you  say  ?" 

"  Yes,"  said  Maximilian,  "an  Englishman,  who  re- 
presented himself  as  the  confidential  clerk  of  the  house  of 
Thomson  &  French,  at  Kome.  It  was  this  that  made  me 
start  when  you  said  the  other  day,  at  M.  de  Morcerf's  that 
Messrs.  Thomson  &  French  were  your  bankers.  That 
happened,  as  I  told  you,  in  1829.  For  God's  sake  tell  me, 
did  you  know  this  Englishman?" 

"  But  you  tell  me,  also,  that  the  house  of  Thomson  & 
French  have  constantly  denied  having  rendered  you  this 
service?" 

"  Yes." 

"  Then  it  is  not  probable  that  this  Englishman  may  be 
some  one  who,  grateful  for  a  kindness  your  father  had 
shown  him,  and  which  he  himself  had  forgotten,  has  taken 
this  method  of  requiting  the  obligation?" 

"  Everything  is  possible  on  such  an  occasion,  even  a 
miracle." 

"  What  was  his  name?"  asked  Monte  Cristo. 

"  He  gave  no  other  name/'  answered  Julie,  looking 
earnestly  at  the  count,  "  than  that  at  the  end  of  his  letter 
— 'Sinbad  the  Sailor.'" 

"  Which  is  evidently  not  his  real  name,  but  a  fictitious 
one."  Then,  noticing  that  Julie  was  struck  with  the 
sound  of  his  voice,  "Tell  me,"  continued  he,  "  was  _  he 
not  about  my  height,  perhaps  a  little  taller,  his  chin  im- 
prisoned, to  use  the  word,  in  a  high  cravat;  his  coat  closely 
buttoned  up,  and  constantly  taking  out  his  pencil?" 

"  Oh,  do  you  then  know  him?"  cried  Julie,  whose  eyes 
sparkled  with  joy. 

"  No,"  returned  Monte  Cristo,  "  I  only  guessed.  I 
knew  a  Lord  Wilmore,  who  was  constantly  doing  actions 
of  this  kind." 

"  Without  revealing  himself?" 

"  He  was  an  eccentric  being,  and  did  not  believe  in  the 
existence  of  gratitude." 

"  Oh,  heaven  !"  exclaimed  Julie,  clasping  her  hands. 
"  In  what  did  he  believe,  then?" 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CR18TO.  585 

"  He  did  not  credit  it  at  the  period  when  I  knew  him/' 
said  Monte  Cristo,  touched  to  the  heart  by  the  accents  of 
Julie's  voice  ;  "  but,  perhaps,  since  then  he  has  had  proofs 
that  gratitude  does  exist." 

"  And  do  you  know  this,  gentleman,  monsieur?"  in- 
quired Emmanuel. 

"  Oh,  if  you  do  know  him,"  cried  Julie,  "  can  you  tell 
us  where  he  is — where  we  can  find  him?  Maximilian — 
Emmanuel — if  we  do  but  discover  him,  he  must  believe  in 
the  gratitude  of  the  heart?" 

Moute  Cristo  felt  tears  start  into  his  eyes,  and  he  again 
walked  hastily  up  and  down  the  room." 

"  In  the  name  of  heaven  !"  said  Maximilian,  "  if  you 
know  anything  of  him,  tell  us  what  it  is." 

"Alas !"  cried  Moute  Cristo,  striving  to  repress  his 
emotion.  "  If  Lord  Wilmore  was  your  unknown  bene- 
factor, I  fear  you  will  never  again  see  him.  I  parted  from 
him,  two  years  ago,  at  Palermo,  and  he  was  then  on  the 
point  of  setting  out  for  the  most  remote  regions  ;  so  that  I 
lear  he  will  never  return." 

"Oh,  monsieur,  this  is  cruel  of  you,"  said  Julie,  much 
affected  ;  and  the  young  lady's  eyes  swam  with  tears. 

"  Madame,"  replied  Monte  Cristo,  gravely,  and  gazing 
earnestly  on  the  two  liquid  pearls  that  trickled  down  Julie's 
cheeks,  "had  Lord  Wilmore  seen  what  I  now  see,  he  would 
become  attached  to  life,  for  the  tears  you  shed  would  re- 
concile him  to  mankind  :"  and  he  held  out  his  hand  to 
Julie,  who  gave  him  hers,  carried  away  by  the  look  and 
accent  of  the  count. 

"  But,"  continued  she,  "  Lord  Wilmore  had  a  family  or 
friends,  he  must  have  known  some  one,  can  we  not " 

"  Oh,  it  is  useless  to  inquire,"  returned  the  count ;  "  he 
was  not  the  man  you  seek  for,  he  was  my  friend  ;  he  had 
no  secrets  from  me.  and  he  would  have  confided  this  also 
to  me." 

'And  he  told  you  nothing?" 

'  Not  a  word." 

'And  yet  you  instantly  named  him." 

'Ah,  in  such  a  case  one  supposes " 

'  Sister,  sister,"  said  Maximilian,  coming  to  the  count's 
aid,  "monsieur  is  quite  right.  Recollect  what  our  ex- 
cellent father  so  often  told  us :  'It  was  no  Englishman 
that  thus  saved  us.'  " 


586  THE  CO  UNT  OF  MONTE  CRI8TO. 

Monte  Cristo  started. 
What  did  your  father  tell  yon,  M.  Morrel?"  said  he, 


[y  father  thought  that  this  action  had  been  miracu- 
lously performed — he  believed  that  a  benefactor  had  arisen 
from  the  grave  to  save  us.  Oh,  it  was  a  touching  super- 
stition, monsieur,  and  although  I  did  not  myself  believe  it, 
I  would  not  for  the  world  have  destroyed  my  father's  faith 
in  it.  How  often  did  he  muse  over  it  and  pronounce  the 
name  of  a  dear  friend — a  friend  lost  to  him  forever  ;  and 
on  his  death-bed,  when  the  near  approach  of  eternity 
seemed  to  have  illumined  his  mind  with  supernatural  light, 
this  thought,  which  had  until  then  been  but  a  doubt,  be- 
came a  conviction,  and  his  last  words  were  :  '  Maximilian, 
it  was  Edmond  Dant£s  !'  " 

At  these  words  the  count's  paleness,  which  had  for  some 
time  been  increasing,  became  alarming ;  he  could  not 
speak;  he  looked  at  his  watch  like  a  man  who  has  forgotten 
the  time ;  said  a  few  hurried  words  to  Mme.  Herbault, 
and  pressing  the  hands  of  Emmanuel  and  Maximilian  : 

"  Madame,"  he  said,  "  I  trust  you  will  allow  me  to  visit 
you  from  time  to  time  ;  I  value  your  friendship,  and  feel 
grateful  to  you  for  your  welcome,  for  this  is  the  first  time 
for  many  years  that  I  have  thus  yielded  to  my  feelings  ;" 
and  he  hastily  quitted  the  apartment. 

"  This  Count  of  Monte  Cristo  is  a  singular  man,"  said 
Emmanuel. 

"  Yes,"  answered  Maximilian,  "  but  I  feel  sure  he  has 
an  excellent  heart,  and  that  he  likes  us." 

"  His  voice  went  to  my  heart,"  observed  Julie  ;  "  and 
two  or  three  times  I  fancied  I  had  heard  it  before." 


CHAPTER  LI. 

PTRAMUS    AND   THISBE. 


ABOUT  the  center  of  the  Faubourg  Saint-Honore,  and  at 
the  back  of  one  of  the  most  distinguished -looking  mansions 
in  this  rich  neighborhood,  where  the  various  hotels  vie 
with  each  other  for  elegance  of  design  and  magnificence  of 
construction,  extended  a  large  garden,  whose  widely- 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRJ8TO.  587 

spreading  chestnut-trees  raised  their  heads  above  the  walls, 
high  and  solid  as  those  of  a  rampart,  scattering,  each 
spring,  a  shower  of  delicate  pink  and  white  blossoms  into 
the  large  stone  vases  placed  at  equal  distances  upon  the 
two  square  pilasters,  supporting  an  iron  gate,  curiously 
wrought,  after  the  style  aud  manner  of  the  reign  of  Louis 
XIV.  This  noble  entrance,  however,  spite  of  its  striking 
appearance  and  the  graceful  effect  of  the  geraniums  planted 
in  the  two  vases,  as  they  waved  their  variegated  leaves  in 
the  wind,  and  charmed  the  eye  with  their  scarlet  bloom, 
had  fallen  into  utter  disuse,  from  the  period  when  the  pro- 
prietors of  the  hotel  (and  many  years  had  elapsed  since 
then)  had  confined  themselves  to  the  possession  of  the 
hotel  with  its  thickly-planted  court-yard,  opening  into  the 
Faubourg  Saint-Honore,  and  the  garden  shut  in  by  this 
gate,  which  formerly  communicated  with  a  fine  kitchen- 
garden  of  about  an  acre  in  extent.  But  the  demon  of 
speculation  having  drawn  a  line,  or  in  other  words  pro- 
jected a  street,  at  the  extremity  of  this  kitchen-garden,  and 
even  before  the  foundations  of  the  said  street  were  dug,  its 
name  being  duly  affixed  upon  an  iron  plate  at  the 
corner  of  the  situation  chosen,  it  occurred  to  the  then 
possessor  of  the  hotel  we  are  describing  that  a  hand- 
some sum  might  be  obtained  for  the  ground  now 
devoted  to  fruits  and  vegetables,  for  the  purpose  of 
adding  it  to  the  projected  street  intended  to  form  a 
great  branch  of  communication  with  the  Faubourg  Saint- 
Honore  itself,  one  of  the  most  important  thoroughfares  in 
the  city  of  Paris. 

In  matters  of  speculation,  however,  though  "man  pro- 
poses "yet  ''money  disposes."  From  some  such  difficulty 
the  newly  named  street  died  almost  in  birth,  and  the  pur- 
chaser of  the  "  kitchen-garden,"  having  paid  a  high  price 
for  it  and  being  quite  unable  to  find  anyone  willing  to 
take  his  bargain  off  his  hands  without  a  considerable  loss, 
yet  still  clinging  to  the  belief  that  at  some  future  day  he 
should  obtain  a  sum  for  it  that  would  repay  him  not  only 
for  his  past  outlay,  but  also  the  interest  upon  the  capital 
locked  up  in  his  new  acquisition,  contented  himself  with 
letting  the  ground  temporarily  to  some  market  gardeners 
at  a  yearly  rent  of  500  francs.  Thus,  then,  as  already 
stilted,  the  iron  gate  leading  into  the  kitchen-garden  had 
been  closed  up  and  left  to  the  rust,  which  bade  fair  to 


588  THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO. 

destroy  its  hinges  ere  long,  while,  to  prevent  the  ignoble 
glances  of  the  diggers  and  delvers  of  the  ground  from 
presuming  to  sully  the  aristocratical  inclosure  belonging  to 
the  hotel,  the  gate  in  question  had  been  boarded  up  to  a 
height  of  six  feet.  True,  the  planks  were  not  so  closely 
adjusted  but  that  a  hasty  peep  might  be  obtained  between 
their  interstices;  but  the  strict  decorum  and  rigid  propriety 
of  the  inhabitants  of  the  hotel  left  no  grounds  for  appre- 
hending that  advantage  would  be  taken  of  that  circum- 
stance. 

Horticulture  seemed,  however,  to  have  been  abandoned 
in  the  deserted  kitchen-garden;  and  where  the  most  choice 
and  delicate  of  fruits  and  vegetables  once  reared  their 
heads,  a  scanty  crop  of  lucerne  alone  bore  evidence  of  its 
being  deemed  worthy  of  cultivation.  A  small,  low  door 
gave  egress  from  the  walled  space  we  have  been  describing 
into  the  projected  street,  the  ground  having  been  aban- 
doned as  unproductive  by  its  various  renters,  and  had  now 
fallen  so  completely  in  general  estimation  as  to  return  not 
even  a  fraction  of  the  poor  10  shillings  per  cent  it  had  orig- 
inally paid.  Toward  the  hotel  the  chestnut  trees  we  have 
before  mentioned  rose  high  above  the  wall,  without  in  any 
way  affecting  the  growth  of  other  luxuriant  shrubs  and 
flowers  that  eagerly  pressed  forward  to  fill  up  the  vacant 
spaces,  as  though  asserting  their  right  to  enjoy  the  boon  of 
light  and  air  also.  At  one  corner,  where  the  foliage  be- 
came so  thick  as  almost  to  shut  out  day,  a  large  stone 
bench  and  sundry  rustic  seats  indicated  that  this  sheltered 
spot  was  either  in  general  favor  or  particular  use  by  some 
inhabitant  of  the  hotel,  which  was  faintly  discernible 
through  the  dense  mass  of  verdure  that  partially  concealed 
it,  though  situated  but  a  hundred  paces  off. 

Whoever  had  selected  this  retired  portion  of  the  grounds 
as  the  boundary  of  their  walks  or  scene  of  their  meditative 
musings,  was  abundantly  justified  in  their  choice  by  the 
absence  of  all  glare,  the  cool,  refreshing  shade,  the  screen 
it  afforded  from  the  scorching  rays  of  the  sun,  that  found 
no  entrance  there  even  during  the  burning  days  of  hottest 
summer — the  incessant  and  melodious  warbling  of  birds 
and  the  entire  removal  from  either  the  noise  of  the  street 
or  the  bustle  of  the  hotel.  On  the  evening  of  one  of  the 
warmest  days  spring  had  yet  bestowed  on  the  inhabitants 
of  Paris,  might  be  seen,  negligently  thrown  upon  the  stone 


THE  CO  UNT  OF  MONTE  CR18TO.  589 

bench,  a  book,  a  parasol  and  a  work-basket,  from  which 
hung  a  partly-embroidered  cambric  handkerchief,  while  at 
a  little  distance  from  these  articles  was  a  young  female, 
standing  close  to  the  iron  gate,  endeavoring  to  discern 
something  on  the  other  side  by  means  of  the  openings  in 
the  planks,  while  the  earnestness  of  her  attitude  and  the 
fixed  gaze  with  which  she  seemed  to  seek  the  object  of  her 
wishes,  proved  how  much  her  feelings  were  interested  in 
the  matter.  At  that  instant  the  little  side  door  leading 
from  the  waste  ground  to  the  street  was  noiselessly  opened, 
and  a  tall,  powerful  young  man,  dressed  in  a  common  gray 
blouse  and  velvet  cap,  but  whose  carefully  arranged  hair, 
beard  and  mustache,  all  of  the  richest  and  glossiest  black, 
but  ill  accorded  with  his  plebeian  attire,  after  casting  a 
rapid  glance  around  him  in  order  to  assure  himself  he  waa 
unobserved,  entered  by  this  door,  and,  carefully  closing  and 
securing  it  after  him,  proceeded  with  a  hurried  step  toward 
the  iron  gate. 

At  the  sight  of  him  she  expected,  though  probably  not 
under  such  a  costume,  the  female  we  have  before  men- 
tioned started  in  terror  and  was  about  to  make  a  hasty 
retreat.  But  the  eye  of  love  had  already  seen,  even 
through  the  narrow  chinks  of  the  wooden  palisades,  the 
movement  of  the  white  robe,  and  observed  the  fluttering 
of  the  blue  sash  fastened  around  the  slender  waist  of  his 
fair  neighbor.  Pressing  his  lips  close  to  the  envious 
planks  that  prevented  his  further  progress,  he  exclaimed: 

" Fear  nothing,  Valentine,  it  is  I!" 

Again  the  timid  girl  found  courage  to  return  to  the  gate, 
saying,  as  she  did  so: 

"And  wherefore  come  you  so  late  to-day?  It  is  almost 
the  dinner  hour,  and  I  have  been  compelled  to  exercise 
my  utmost  skill  to  get  rid  of  the  incessant  watchfulness  of 
my  step-mother,  as  well  as  the  espionage  of  my  maid, 
who,  no  doubt,  is  employed  to  report  all  I  do  and  say. 
Nor  has  it  cost  me  a  little  trouble  to  free  myself  from  the 
troublesome  society  of  my  brother,  under  pretence  of  com- 
ing hither  to  work  undisturbed  at  my  embroidery,  which, 
by  the  way,  I  am  in  no  hurry  to  finish.  So  pray  excuse 
yourself  as  well  as  you  can  for  having  made  me  wait,  and, 
after  that,  tell  me  why  I  see  you  in  so  singular  a  dress, 
that  at  first  I  did  not  recognize  you." 

"  Dearest  Valentine,"  said  the  young  man,  "  the  differ- 


590  THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  VRISTO. 

ence  between  our  respective  stations  makes  me  fear  to 
offend  you  by  speaking  of  my  love,  but  yet  I  cannot  find 
myself  in  your  presence  without  longing  to  pour  forth  my 
soul  and  to  tell  you  how  fondly  I  adore  you.  If  it  be  but 
to  carry  away  with  me  the  recollection  of  such  sweet 
moments  I  could  even  bless — thank — you  for  chiding  me, 
for  it  leaves  me  a  gleam  of  hope  that  if  not  expecting  me 
— and  that,  indeed,  would  be  worse  than  vanity  of  me  to 
suppose — at  least  I  was  in  your  thoughts.  You  asked  me 
the  cause  of  my  being  late,  as  also  why  I  came  thus  dis- 
guised. I  will  candidly  explain  the  reason  of  both,  and  I 
trust  to  your  goodness  to  pardon  me.  But  first,  let  me  tell 
you  I  have  chosen  a  trade. " 

"A  trade!  Oh,  Maximilian,  how  can  you  jest  at  a  time 
when  we  have  such  deep  cause  for  uneasiness?" 

"  Heaven  keep  me  from  jesting  with  that  which  is  far 
dearer  to  me  than  life  itself.  But  listen  to  me,  Valentine, 
and  I  will  tell  you  all  about  it.  Tired  out  with  ranging 
fields  and  scaling  walls,  and  seriously  alarmed  at  the  idea 
suggested  by  yourself,  that  if  caught  hovering  about  here 
your  father  would  very  likely  have  me  sent  to  prison  as  a 
thief,  a  sort  of  thing  not  very  desirable  for  an  officer  in 
the  French  army,  whose  continual  presence  in  a  place 
where  no  warlike  projects  could  be  supposed  to  account 
for  it  might  well  create  surprise;  so,  from  a  captain  of 
Spahis  I  have  become  a  gardener,  and,  consequently, 
adopted  the  costume  of  my  calling." 

"What  excessive  nonsense  you  talk,  Maximilian!" 

"  Nonsense!  Pray  do  not  call  what  I  consider  the  wisest 
action  of  my  life  by  such  a  name.  Consider,  by  becoming 
a  gardener  I  effectually  screen  our  meetings  from  all  sus- 
picion or  danger." 

"  I  beseech  of  you,  Maximilian,  to  cease  trifling  and  tell 
me  what  you  really  mean." 

"  Simply,  that  having  ascertained  that  the  piece  of 
ground  on  which  I  stand  was  to  let,  I  made  application  for 
it,  was  readily  accepted  by  the  proprietor,  and  am  now  mas- 
ter of  this  fine  crop  of  lucerne.  Think  of  that,  Valentine. 
There  is  nothing  now  to  prevent  my  building  myself  a 
little  hut  on  my  plantation,  and  residing  not  twenty  yards 
from  you.  Only  imagine  what  happiness  that  would  afford 
me.  I  can  scarcely  contain  myself  at  the  bare  idea.  Such 
felicity  seems  above  all  price — as  a  thing  impossible  and 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRI8TO  591 

unattainable.  But  would  you  believe  that  I  purchased  all 
this  delight,  joy  and  happiness,  for  which  I  would  cheer- 
fully have  surrendered  ten  years  of  my  life,  at  the  small 
cost  of  500  francs  per  annum,  paid  quarterly!  Henceforth 
we  have  nothing  to  fear.  I  am  on  my  own  ground,  and 
have  an  undoubted  right  to  place  a  ladder  against  the  wall, 
and  to  look  over  when  I  please,  without  having  any  appre- 
hensions of  being  taken  off  by  the  police  as  a  suspicious 
character.  I  may  also  enjoy  the  precious  privilege  of 
assuring  you  of  my  fond,  faithful  and  unalterable  affection 
whenever  you  visit  your  favorite  bower,  unless,  indeed,  it 
offends  your  pride  to  listen  to  professions  of  love  from  the 
lips  of  a  poor  workingman,  clad  in  a  blouse  and  cap." 

A  faint  cry  of  mingled  pleasure  and  surprise  escaped 
from  the  lips  of  Valentine,  who  almost  instantly  said,  in  a 
saddened  tone,  as  though  some  envious  cloud  darkened  the 
joy  which  illumined  her  heart: 

"  Alas!  no,  Maximilian,  this  must  not  be,  for  many 
reasons!  We  should  presume  too  much  on  our  own 
streiigth,  and,  like  others,  perhaps,  be  led  astray  by  our 
blind  confidence  in  each  other's  prudence." 

"  How  can  you  for  an  instant  entertain  so  unworthy  a 
thought,  dear  Valentine?  Have  I  not,  from  the  first 
blessed  hour  of  our  acquaintance,  schooled  all  my  words 
and  actions  to  your  sentiments  and  ideas?  And  you  have, 
I  am  sure,  the  fullest  confidence  in  my  honor.  When  you 
spoke  to  me  of  your  experiencing  a  vague  and  indefinite 
sense  of  coming  danger  I  placed  myself  blindly  and 
devotedly  at  your  service,  asking  no  other  reward  than  the 
pleasure  of  being  useful  to  you;  and  have  I  ever  since,  by 
word  or  look,  given  you  cause  of  regret  for  having  selected 
me  from  the  numbers  that  would  willingly  have  sacrificed 
their  lives  for  you?  You  told  me,  my  dear  Valentine,  that 
you  were  engaged  to  M.  d'Epinay,  and  that  your  father 
was  resolved  upon  completing  the  match,  and  that  from 
his  will  there  was  no  appeal,  as  M.  de  Villefort  was  never 
known  to  change  a  determination  once  formed.  I  kept  in 
the  background,  as  you  wished,  waiting  not  the  decision  of 
your  heart  or  my  own,  but  hoping  Providence  would 
graciously  interpose  in  our  behalf  and  order  events  in  our 
favor.  But  what  cared  I  for  delays  or  difficulties,  so  long 
as  my  sweet  Valentine  confessed  she  loved  me  and  accepted 
my  fervent  vows  of  unfailing  constancy?  Blessed  avowal! 


$92  THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO. 

the  very  recollection  of  which  can  at  all  times  raise  me 
even  from  despair  itself.  To  hear  you  repeat  those  enrap- 
turing words  from  time  to  time  is  all  I  ask,  and  to  obtain 
that  privilege  I  would  cheerfully  endure  even  double  my 
present  disquietudes." 

"  Ah,  Maximilian,  that  is  the  very  thing  that  makes  you 
so  bold,  and  which  renders  me  at  once  so  happy  and  un- 
happy that  I  frequently  ask  myself  whether  it  is  better  for 
me  to  endure  the  harshness  of  my  step-mother  and  her 
blind  preference  for  her  own  child,  or  to  be,  as  I  now  am, 
insensible  to  any  pleasure  save  such  as  I  find  in  these,  our 
meetings,  so  fraught  with  danger  to  both." 

"  I  will  not  admit  that  word,"  returned  the  young  man; 
"  it  is  at  once  cruel  and  unjust.  Is  it  possible  to  find  a 
more  submissive  slave  than  myself?  You  have  permitted 
me  to  converse  with  you  fronTtime  to  time,  Valentine,  but 
forbidden  my  ever  following  you  in  your  walks  or  else- 
where. Have  I  not  obeyed?  And  since  I  found  means  to 
enter  this  inclosure  to  exchange  a  few  words  with  you 
through  this  door — to  be  close  to  you  without  being 
enabled  to  obtain  a  view  of  your  dear  features — I  have  even 
solicited  to  touch  the  tip  of  your  glove  through  the  small 
openings  of  the  palisades — think  you  that  at  my  age  and 
with  my  strength  this  wall  that  now  parts  us  would  keep 
me  from  your  side  one  instant  were  it  not  that  my  respect 
for  your  wishes  presents  an  impassable  barrier?  Is  ever  has 
a  complaint  or  a  murmur  of  your  rigor  escaped  me.  I  have 
been  bound  by  my  promises  as  rigidly  as  any  knight  of 
olden  times.  Come,  come,  dearest  Valentine,  confess  that 
what  I  say  is  true,  lest  I  be  tempted  to  call  you  unjust." 

"  It  is,  indeed,  most  true,"  said  Valentine,  as  she  passed 
the  end  of  her  slender  fingers  through  a  small  opening  in 
the  planks,  thus  permitting  her  lover  to  press  his  lips  to 
the  taper  finger  that  almost  instantly  disappeared,  "  and 
you  are  a  true  and  faithful  friend;  but  still  you  acted  from 
motives  of  self-interest,  my  dear  Maximilian,  for  you  well 
knew  that  from  the  moment  in  which  you  had  manifested 
an  opposite  spirit  all  would  have  been  ended  between  us. 
You  promised  to  bestow  on  me  the  friendly  affection  of  a 
brother.  I,  who  have  no  friend  but  yourself  upon  earth, 
who  am  neglected  and  forgotten  by  my  father,  harassed  and 
persecuted  by  my  step-mother,  and  left  to  the  sole  com- 
panionship of  a  paralyzed  and  speechless  old  man,  whose 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRI8TO.  593 

withered  hand  can  no  longer  press  mine,  and  whose  eye 
alone  converses  with  me,  while,  doubtless,  however  fixed, 
chilled  his  frame,  there  still  lingers  in  his  heart  the  warm- 
est tenderness  for  his  poor  grandchild.  Oh,  how  bitter  a 
fate  is  mine,  to  serve  either  as  a  victim  or  an  enemy  to  all 
who  are  stronger  than  myself,  while  my  only  friend  and 
supporter  is  but  a  living  corpse!  Indeed,  indeed,  Maximil- 
ian, I  am  very  miserable,  and  you  are  right  to  love  me  for 
myself  alone." 

"  Dear  Valentine,"  replied  the  young  man,  deeply 
affected,  "  I  will  not  say  you  are  all  I  love  in  the  world, 
for  I  dearly  prize  my  sister  and  brother-in-law;  but  my 
affection  for  them  is  calm  and  tranquil,  in  no  manner  re- 
sembling that  I  feel  for  you.  At  the  mere  thought  of  you 
my  heart  beats  more  quickly,  my  blood  flows  with  increased 
rapidity  through  my  veins  and  my  breast  heaves  with 
tumultuous  emotions;  but  I  solemnly  promise  you  to  re- 
strain all  this  ardor,  this  fervor  and  intensity  of  feeling 
until  you  yourself  shall  require  me  to  render  them  available 
in  serving  or  assisting  you.  M.  Franz  is  not  expected  to 
return  home  for  a  year  to  come,  I  am  told;  in  that  time 
many  favorable  and  unforeseen  chances  may  befriend  us. 
Let  us,  then,  hope  for  the  best — hope  is  so  sweet  a  com- 
forter. Meanwhile,  Valentine,  while  reproaching  me  with 
selfishness,  think  a  little  what  you  have  been  to  me — the 
beautiful  but  cold  resemblance  of  a  marble  Venus.  What 
promise  of  future  reward  have  you  made  me  for  al)  the  sub- 
mission and  obedience  I  have  evinced? — none  whatever. 
What  granted  me? — scarcely  more.  You  tell  me  of  M. 
Franz  d'Epinay,  your  betrothed  lover,  and  you  shrink  from 
the  idea  of  being  his  wife;  but  tell  me,  Valentine,  is  there 
no  other  sorrow  in  your  heart?  You  see  me  devoted  to 
you,  body  and  soul,  my  life  and  each  warm  drop  that 
circles  round  my  heart  are  consecrated  to  your  service;  you 
know  full  well  that  my  existence  is  bound  up  in  yours — 
that  were  I  to  lose  you  I  would  not  outlive  the  hour  of 
such  crushing  misery;  yet  you  speak  with  calmness  of  the 
prospect  of  your  being  the  wife  of  another!  Oh,  Valentine! 
were  I  in  your  place,  and  did  I  feel  conscious,  as  you  do,  of 
being  worshiped,  adored,  with  such  a  love  as  mine,  a  hun- 
dred times  at  least  should  I  have  passed  my  hand  between 
these  iron  bars,  and  said  to  poor  Maximilian,  *  Take  this 
hand,  dearest  Maximilian,  and  believe  that,  living  or  dead, 
I  am  yours — yours  only,  and  forever!' " 


594  TUB  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO. 

The  poor  girl  made  no  reply,  but  her  lover  could  plainly 
hear  her  sobs  and  tears.  A  rapid  change  took  place  in  the 

"  Dearest,  dearest  Valentine  I"  exclaimed  he,  "  forgive 
me  if  I  have  offended  you,  and  forget  the  words  I  spoke  if 
they  have  unwittingly  caused  you  pain." 

"No,  Maximilian,  I  am  not  offended,"  answered  she; 
"  but  do  you  not  see  what  a  poor,  helpless  being  I  am, 
almost  a  stranger  and  an  outcast  in  my  father's  house, 
where  even  he  is  seldom  seen;  whose  will  has  been  thwarted, 
and  spirits  broken,  from  the  age  of  10  years,  beneath  the 
iron  rod  so  sternly  exercised  over  me;  oppressed,  mortified, 
and  persecuted,  day  by  day,  hour  by  hour,  minute  by 
minute;  no  person  has  cared  for,  even  observed  my  suffer- 
ings, nor  have  I  ever  breathed  one  word  on  the  subject 
save  to  yourself.  Outwardly  and  in  the  eyes  of  the  world, 
I  am  surrounded  by  kindness  and  affection;  but  the  reverse 
is  the  case.  The  general  remark  is,  '  Oh,  it  cannot  be  ex- 
pected that  one  of  so  stern  a  character  as  M.  de  Villeforf, 
could  lavish  the  tenderness  some  fathers  do  on  their 
daughters.  What  though  she  has  lost  her  own  mother  at 
a  tender  age,  she  has  had  the  happiness  to  find  a  second 
mother  in  Mme.  de  Villefort.'  The  world,  however,  is 
mistaken;  my  father  abandons  me  from  utter  indifference, 
while  my  step-mother  detests  me  with  a  hatred  so  much 
the  more  terrible  as  it  is  veiled  beneath  a  continual  smile." 

"  Hate  you,  sweet  Valentine  !"  exclaimed  the  young 
man;  "  how  is  it  possible  for  any  one  to  do  that  ?" 

"  Alas  !"  replied  the  weeping  girl,  "  I  am  obliged  to 
own  that  my  step-mother's  aversion  to  me  arises  from  a 
very  natural  source — her  overweening  love  for  her  own 
child,  my  brother  Edward." 

"  But  why  should  it  ?" 

"Nay,  I  know  not;  but,  though  unwilling  to  introduce 
money  matters  into  our  present  conversation,  I  will  just 
say  this  much — that  her  extreme  dislike  to  me  has  its 
origin  in  mercenary  motives;  and  I  much  fear  she  envies 
me  the  fortune  I  already  enjoy  in  right  of  my  mother,  and 
which  will  be  more  than  doubled  at  the  death  of  M.  and 
Mme.  Meran,  whose  sole  heiress  I  am.  Mme.  de  Villefort 
has  nothing  of  her  own,  and  hates  me  for  being  so  richly 
endowed.  Alas!  how  gladly  would  I  exchange  the  half  of 
this  wealth  for  the  happiness  of  at  least  sharing  my  father's 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO.  595 

love  !  God  knows,  I  would  prefer  sacrificing  the  whole, 
so  that  it  would  obtain  me  a  happy  and  affectionate  home. " 

"  Poor  Valentine  !" 

"  I  seem  to  myself  as  though  living  a  life  of  bondage,  yet 
at  the  same  time  am  so  conscious  of  my  own  weakness  that 
I  fear  to  break  the  restraint  in  which  I  am  held,  lest  I  fall 
utterly  powerless  and  helpless.  Then,  too,  my  father  is 
not  a  person  whose  orders  may  be  infringed  with  impunity; 
protected  as  he  is  by  his  high  position  and  firmly-estab- 
lished reputation  for  talent  and  unswerving  integrity,  no 
one  could  oppose  him;  he  is  all-powerful  with  even  his 
king;  you  he  would  crush  at  a  word,  and  myself  he  would 
cause  to  expire  of  terror  at  his  feet.  Dear  Maximilian, 
believe  me  when  I  assure  you  that  I  attempt  not  to  resist 
my  father's  commands  more  on  your  account  than  my  own; 
for,  though  I  could  willingly  sacrifice  myself,  I  would  not 
peril  your  safety." 

"  But  wherefore,  my  sweet  Valentine,  do  you  persist  in 
aticipating  the  worst,  and  in  viewing  everything  through 
so  gloomy  a  medium — why  picture  the  future  so  fraught 
with  evil  ?" 

"  Because  I  judge  it  from  the  past." 

"  Still,  consider  that  although  I  may  not  be,  strictly 
speaking,  what  is  termed  an  illustrious  match  for  you,  I 
am,  for  many  reasons,  not  altogether  so  much  beneath 
your  alliance.  The  days  when  such  distinctions  were  so 
nicely  weighed  and  considered  no  longer  exist  in  France, 
and  the  first  families  of  the  monarchy  have  intermarried 
with  those  of  the  empire.  The  aristocracy  of  the  lance  has 
allied  itself  with  the  nobility  of  the  cannon.  Now  I  be- 
long to  this  last-named  class;  and  certainly  my  prospects 
of  military  preferment  are  most  encouraging  as  well  as 
certain.  My  fortune,  though  small,  is  free  and  unfettered, 
and  the  memory  of  my  late  father  respected  in  our  country, 
Valentine,  as  that  of  the  most  upright  and  honorable 
merchant  of  the  city;  I  say  our  country,  because  you  were 
born  not  far  from  Marseilles. " 

"  Name  not  Marseilles,  I  beseech  you,  Maximilian;  that 
one  word  brings  back  my  mother  to  my  recollection — my 
angel  mother,  who  died  too  soon  for  myself  and  all  who 
knew  her;  but  who,  after  watching  over  her  child  during 
the  brief  period  allotted  to  her  in  this  world,  now,  I 
fondly  hope  and  fully  believe,  contemplates  her  with  pity- 


596  THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRI8TO. 

ing  tenderness  from,  those  realms  of  bliss  to  which  her 
pure  spirit  has  flown.  Ah,  were  she  still  living,  we  need 
fear  nothing,  Maximilian,  for  I  would  confide  our  love  to 
her,  and  she  would  aid  and  protect  us." 

"  I  fear,  Valentine/'  replied  the  lover,  "  that  were  she 
living  I  should  never  have  had  the  happiness  of  knowing 
you;  you  would  then  have  been  too  happy  to  have  stooped 
from  your  grandeur  to  bestow  a  thought  on  an  humble, 
obscure  individual  like  myself. " 

"  It  is  you  who  are  unkind,  ay,  and  unjust  too,  now, 
Maximilian, "  cried  Valentine;  "  but  there  is  one  thing  I 
wish  to  know." 

"  And  what  is  that  ?"  inquired  the  young  man,  perceiv- 
ing that  Valentine  hesitated  and  seemed  at  a  loss  how  to 
proceed. 

"  Tell  me  truly,  Maximilian,  whether  in  former  days, 
when  our  fathers  'dwelt  at  Marseilles,  there  ever  existed 
any  misunderstanding  between  them  ?" 

"  Not  that  I  am  at  all  aware  of,"  replied  the  young  man, 
"  unless,  indeed,  any  ill-feeling  might  have  arisen  from 
their  being  of  opposite  parties — your  father  being,  as  you 
know,  a  zealous  partisan  of  the  Bourbons,  while  mine  was 
wholly  devoted  to  the  emperor;  there  could  not  possibly 
be  any  other  difference  between  them.  But  now  that  I 
have  answered  your  question  to  the  best  of  my  power  and 
knowledge,  tell  me,  dearest,  why  you  ask  ?" 

' '  I  will,"  replied  his  fair  companion,  "for  it  is  but 
right  you  should  know  all.  Then  I  must  begin  by  refer- 
ring to  the  day  when  your  being  made  an  officer  of  the 
Legion  of  Honor  was  publicly  announced  in  the  papers. 
We  were  all  sitting  in  the  apartments  of  my  grandfather, 
M.  Noirtier;  M.  Danglars  was  there  also — you  recollect  M. 
Danglars,  do  you  not,  Maximilian,  the  banker,  whose 
horses  ran  away  with  my  step-mother  and  little  brother, 
and  very  nearly  killed  them  ?  While  the  rest  of  the  com- 
pany were  discussing  the  approaching  marriage  of  Mile. 
Danglars,  I  was  occupied  in  reading  the  paper  aloud  to  my 
grandfather;  but  when  I  came  to  the  paragraph  concern- 
ing you,  although  I  had  done  nothing  else  but  read  it  over 
to  myself  all  the  morning,  you  know  you  had  told  me  all 
about  it  the  previous  evening,  I  felt  so  happy,  and  yet  so 
nervous,  at  the  idea  of  pronouncing  your  beloved  name 
aloud,  and  before  so  many  people,  that  I  really  think  I 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO.  597 

should  have  passed  it  over,  but  for  the  fear  that  my  so  do- 
ing might  create  suspicions  as  to  the  cause  of  my  silence; 
so  I  summoned  up  all  my  courage,  and  read  it  "as  firmly 
and  steadily  as  I  could." 

"  Dear  Valentine  I" 

"  Well,  would  you  believe  it  ?  directly  my  father  caught 
the  sound  of  your  name  he  turned  round  quite  hastily, 
and,  like  a  poor  silly  thing,  I  was  so  persuaded  that 
every  one  must  be  as  much  affected  as  myself  by  the 
utterance  of  your  name,  that  I  was  not  surprised  to  see 
my  father  start,  and  almost  tremble;  but  I  even  thought, 
though  that  surely  must  have  been  a  mistake  that  M. 
Danglars  underwent  a  similar  emotion." 

"  'Morrel!  Morrel!'  cried  my  father,  'stop  a  bit;'  then, 
knitting  his  brows  into  a  deep  frown,  he  added,  'Surely 
this  cannot  be  one  of  the  Morrel  family  who  lived  at  Mar- 
seilles, and  gave  us  so  much  trouble  from  their  being  such 
violent  Bonapartists — I  mean  about  the  year  1815.'" 

"  'I  fancy,'  replied  M.  Danglars,  'that  the  individual 
alluded  to  in  the  journal  mademoiselle  is  reading  is  the 
son  of  the  large  ship-owner  there/" 

"Indeed!"  answered  Maximillian;  "and  what  said  your 
father  then,  Valentine?" 

"Oh,  such  a  dreadful  thing,  I  dare  not  repeat  it." 

".Nay,  dearest!"  said  the  young  man,  "be  not  afraid  to 
tell  me — say,  what  was  it?" 

"  'Ah/  continued  my  father,  still  frowning  severely, 
'their  idolized  emperor  treated  these  madmen  as  they  de- 
served; he  called  them  ''food  for  cannon,"  which  was  pre- 
cisely all  they  were  good  for;  and  I  am  delighted  to  see 
that  the  present  government  has  adopted  this  salutary 
principle  with  all  its  pristine  vigor;  if  Algiers  were  good 
for  nothing  but  to  furnish  out  the  means  of  carrying  so 
admirable  an  idea  into  practice,  it  would  be  an  acquisition 
well  worthy  of  struggling  to  obtain.  Though  it  certainly 
does  cost  France  somewhat  dear  to  assert  its  rights  in  that 
uncivilized  country/  n 

"The  sentiments  expressed  were  somewhat  unfeeling,  I 
must  confess,"  said  Maximillian;  "but  do  not  let  that 
tinge  your  fair  cheek  with  the  blush  of  shame,  my  gentle 
Valentine;  for  I  can  assure  you  that,  although  in  a  differ- 
ent way,  my  father  was  not  a  jot  or  tittle  behind  yours  in 
the  heat  of  his  political  expressions;  'Why,  said  he,  does 

IM-.MAS— A'OL.   1.— 26 


598  THE  CO  UNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO. 

not  the  emperor,  who  has  devised  so  many  clever  and  effi- 
cient modes  of  improving  the  art  of  war,  not  form  a  regi- 
ment of  lawyers,  judges  and  legal  practitioners,  sending 
them  in  the  hottest  fire  the  enemy  could  maintain,  and 
using  them  to  save  better  men?'  You  see,  my  sweet  Val- 
entine, that  for  mildness  of  expression  and  imaginative 
benefits  there  is  not  much  to  choose  between  the  language 
of  either  Koyalist  or  Bonapartist.  But  what  said  M. 
Danglars  to  this  burst  of  party  spirit  on  the  part  of  thepro- 
cureur  du  roi  9  " 

"  Oh,  he  laughed,  and  in  that  singular  manner  so 
peculiar  to  himself  —  half-malicious,  half -ferocious;  his 
smile,  even,  has  always  made  me  shudder,  it  has  so  very 
unnatural  a  look — he  almost  immediately  rose  and  took 
his  leave;  then,  for  the  first  time,  I  observed  the  agitation 
of  my  grandfather,  and  I  must  tell  you,  Maximillian,  that 
I  am  the  only  person  capable  of  discerning  emotion  in  the 
paralyzed  frame  of  my  poor  afflicted  relative.  And  I  sus- 
pected that  the  conversation  that  had  been  carried  on  in 
his  presence  (for  no  one  ever  cares  to  refrain  from  saying 
and  doing  what  they  like  before  the  dear  old  man,  without 
the  smallest  regard  to  his  feelings)  had  made  a  strong  im- 
pression on  his  mind;  for,  naturally  enough,  it  must  have 
pained  him  to  hear  the  emperor  he  so  devotedly  loved  and 
served  spoken  of  in  that  depreciating  manner." 

"The  name  of  M.  Noirtier,"  interposed  Maximillian, 
"is  celebrated  throughout  Europe:  he  was  a  statesman  of 
high  standing;  and  I  know  not  whether  you  are  a\vare 
Valentine,  that  he  took  a  leading  part  in  every  Bonapar- 
tean  conspiracy  set  on  foot  during  the  restoration  of  the 
Bourbons/' 

"Oh,  I  have  often  heard  whispers  of  things  that  seem 
to  me  most  strange — the  father  a  Bonapartist,  the  son  a 
•  Royalist;  what  can  have  been  the  reason  of  so  singular  a 
difference  in  parties  and  politics?  But  to  resume  my  story; 
I  turned  toward  my  grandfather, as  though  to  question  him 
as  to  the  cause  of  his  emotion;  he  looked  expressively  at 
the  newspaper  I  had  been  reading.  'What  is  the  matter, 
dear  grandfather?'  said  I,  "are  you  pleased?'  He  gave  me 
a  sign  in  the  affirmative.  'With  what  my  father  said  just 
now?'  He  returned  a  sign  in  the  negative.  'Perhaps  you 
liked  what  M,  Danglars  remarked  ?'  Another  sign  in  the 
negative.  'Oh,  then,  you  were  glad  to  hear  that  M.  Mor- 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CR18TO.  599 

rel  (I  dare  not  pronounce  the  dear  name  of  Maximillian) 
had  been  made  an  office  v  of  the  Legion  of  Honor;  was 
that  it,  dear  grandpapa?'  He  signified  assent  in  a  way 
that  convinced  me  he  was  more  than  glad — that  he  was  de- 
lighted; only  think  of  the  poor  old  man's  being  so  pleased 
to  think  that  you,  who  were  a  perfect  stranger  to  him,  had 
been  made  an  officer  of  the  Legion  of  Honor!  Perhaps, 
though,  it  was  a  mere  whim  on  his  part,  for  he  is  almost 
falling  into  a  second  childhood !  but,  for  all  that,  I  love 
him  dearly,  and  pray  that  he  may  long  be  spared  to  me." 

"  How  singular/'  murmured  Maximillian,  "that  your 
father  should  apparently  hate  the  very  mention  of  my 

name,  while  your  grandfather,  on  the  contrary Well, 

well,  it  is  no  use  to  endeavor  to  find  a  reason  for  these 
things;  strange,  indeed,  are  the  feelings  brought  into  play 
by  the  action  of  party  likes  or  dislikes." 

"Hush!"  cried  Valentine,  suddenly,  "conceal  yourself 
— Go,  go!  Some  one  comes."  Maximillian  leaped  at  one 
bound  into  his  crop  of  lucerne,  which  he  commenced 
pulling  up  in  the  most  pitiless  manner,  under  the  pretext 
of  being  occupied  in  weeding  it. 

"Mademoiselle!  mademoiselle!"  exclaimed  a  voice  from 
behind  the  trees.  "Madame  is  searching  for  you  every- 
where; there  are  visitors  in  the  drawing-room." 

"Who  is  it?"  inquired  Valentine,  much  agitated,  "are 
they  ladies?" 

"Oh,  no,  mademoiselle!  I  believe  it  is  some  grand 
prince,  or  a  duke,  or  a  king,  perhaps;  stay,  now  I  remem- 
ber, they  said  he  was  the  Count  of  Monte  Cristo;  and  that 
he  wished  particularly  to  see  you." 

"I  will  come  directly,"  said  Valentine,  aloud.  The 
name  caused  an  electric  shock  to  the  individual  on  the 
other  side  of  the  iron  gate,  on  whose  ear  the  "  /  will 
come  I "  of  Valentine  sounded  the  usual  parting  knell  of 
all  their  interviews. 

"Now,  then,"  said  Maximillian,  as,  tired  with  his  nn- 
usual  employment,  he  stopped  to  rest  himself,  by  leaning 
on  the  handle  of  a  spade  he  had  taken  care  to  furnish  him- 
selt  with,  "would  I  give  much  to  know  how  it  comes 
about  that  the  Count  of  Monte  Cristo  is  acquainted  with 
M.  de  Villefort." 


600  THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRI8TO. 

CHAPTER  LII. 

TOXICOLOGY. 

IT  was  really  the  Count  of  Monte  Cristo  who  had  just 
arrived  at  Mme.  de  Villefort's  for  the  purpose  of  returning 
the  visit  of  the  procureur  du  roi,  and  at  this  name,  as 
may  be  easily  imagined,  the  whole  house  was  in  confusion. 
Mme.  de  Villefort,  who  was  alone  in  her  drawing-room 
when  the  count  was  announced,  desired  that  her  son 
might  be  brought  thither  instantly  to  renew  his  thanks  to 
the  count;  and  Edward,  who  heard  nothing  and  nobody 
talked  of  for  two  whole  days  but  this  great  personage, 
made  all  possible  haste  to  come  to  him,  not  from  obedience 
to  his  mother,  not  from  any  feeling  of  gratitude  to  the 
count,  but  from  sheer  curiosity,  and  that  he  might  make 
some  remark,  by  help  of  which  he  might  find  an  opportu- 
nity for  saying  one  of  those  small  pertnesses  which  made 
his  mother  say — "Oh,  that  sad  child!  but  pray  excuse 
him,  he  is  really  so  clever." 

After  the  first  and  usual  civilities,  the  count  inquired 
after  M.  de  Villefort. 

"  My  husband  dines  with  the  chancellor,"  replied  the 
young  lady ;  "  he  has  just  gone,  and  I  am  sure  he'll  be 
exceedingly  sorry  not  to  have  had  the  pleasure  of  seeing 
you  before  he  went." 

The  two  visitors  who  were  there  when  the  count  arrived, 
having  gazed  at  him  with  all  their  eyes,  retired  after  that 
reasonable  delay  which  politeness  admits  and  curiosity  re- 
quires. 

"Ah !  what  is  your  sister  Valentine  doing?"  inquired 
Mme.  de  Villefort  of  Edward ;  "  tell  some  one  to  bid  her 
come  here,  that  I  may  have  the  honor  of  introducing  her 
to  the  count." 

"  You  have  a  daughter,  then,  madame?"  inquired  the 
count ;  "very  young,  I  presume?" 

"  The  daughter  of  M.  de  Villefort,"  replied  the  young 
wife,  "by  his  first  marriage,  a  fine  well-grown  girl." 

"  But  melancholy,"  interrupted  Master  Edward,  snatch- 
ing the  feathers  out  of  the  tail  of  a  splendid  paroquet 
that  was  screaming  on  its  gilded  perch,  in  order  to  make  a 
plume  for  his  hat. 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRI8TO.  601 

Mme.  de  Villefort  merely  cried:  "Silence,  Edward!" 
She  then  added:  "  This  young  madcap,  is,  however,  very 
nearly  right,  and  merely  re-echoes  what  he  has  heard  me 
say  with  pain  a  hundred  times  ;  for  Mdlle.  de  Villefort 
is,  in  spite  of  all  we  can  do  to  rouse  her,  of  a  melancholy 
disposition  and  taciturn  habit,  which  frequently  injures  the 
effect  of  her  heauty.  But  what  detains  her?  go,  Edward, 
and  see." 

"  Because  they  are  looking  for  her  where  she  is  not  to 
be  found." 

"And  where  are  they  looking  for  her?" 

"  With  grandpapa  Noirtier." 

"And  do  you  think  she  is  not  there?" 

"  No,  no,  no,  no,  no,  she  is  not  there  !"  replied  Edward, 
singing  his  words. 

"And  where  is  she,  then?  If  you  know,  why  don't  you 
tell?" 

"  She  is  under  the  great  chestnut-tree,"  replied  the 
spoiled  brat,  as  he  gave,  in  spite  of  his  mother's  cries,  live 
flies  to  the  parrot,  who  appeared  to  relish  such  ' '  small 
deer  "  exclusively. 

Mme.  de  Villefort  stretched  out  her  hand  to  ring,  in- 
tending to  direct  her  waiting-maid  to  the  spot  she  would 
find  Valentine,  when  the  young  lady  herself  entered  the 
apartment.  She  appeared  much  dejected;  and  any  per- 
son who  considered  her  attentively  might  have  observed 
the  traces  of  recent  tears  in  her  eyes. 

Valentine,  whom  we  have  in  the  rapid  march  of  onr 
narrative  presented  to  our  readers  without  formally  intro- 
ducing her,  was  a  tall  and  graceful  girl  of  19  years  of  age, 
with  bright  chestnut  hair,  deep  blue  eyes,  and  that  lan- 
guishing air  so  full  of  distinction  which  characterized  her 
mother.  Her  white  and  slender  fingers,  her  pearly  neck, 
her  cheeks  tinted  with  varying  hues,  gave  her  at  the  first 
view  the  aspect  of  one  of  those  lovely  Englishwomen  who 
have  been  so  poetically  compared  in  their  manner  to  a  swan 
admiring  itself.  She  entered  the  apartment,  and  seeing 
near  her  step-mother  the  stranger  of  whom  she  had  already 
.heard  so  much,  saluted  him  without  any  girlish  awkward- 
ness, or  even  lowering  her  eyes,  and  with  an  elegance  that 
redoubled  the  count  s  attention.  He  rose  to  return  the 
salutation. 

"  Mdlle.  de  Villefort,  my  step-daughter,"   said    Mme. 


602  THE  COUN2  OF  MONTE  CRISTO. 

de  Villefort  to  Monte  Cristo,  leaning  back  on  her  sofa  and 
motioning  toward  Valentine  with  her  hand. 

"And  M.  de  Monte  Cristo,  king  of  China,  emperor  of 
Cochin-China,"  said  the  young  imp,  looking  toward  his 
sister. 

Mme.  de  Villefort  at  this  really  did  turn  pale,  and  was 
very  nearly  angry  with  this  household  plague,  who  answered 
to  the  name  of  Edward  ;  but  the  count,  on  the  contrary, 
smiled,  and  appeared  to  look  at  the  boy  complacently, 
which  caused  the  maternal  heart  to  bound  again  with  joy 
and  enthusiasm. 

"  But,  madame,"  replied  the  count,  continuing  the  con- 
versation, and  looking  by  turns  at  Mme.  de  Villefort  and 
Valentine,  "have  I  not  already  had  the  honor  of  meeting 
yourself  and  mademoiselle  before?  I  could  not  help  think- 
ing so  just  now ;  the  idea  came  over  my  mind,  and  as 
mademoiselle  entered  the  sight  of  her  was  an  additional 
ray  of  light  thrown  on  a  confused  remembrance ;  excuse 
me  the  remark." 

"  I  do  not  think  it  likely,  sir ;  Mdlle.  de  Villefort  is  not 
very  fond  of  society,  and  we  very  seldom  go  out,"  said  the 
young  lady. 

"  Then  it  was  not  in  society  that  I  met  with  mademoiselle 
or  yourself,  madame,  or  this  charming  little  merry  boy. 
Besides,  the  Parisian  world  is  entirely  unknown  to  me,  for, 
as  I  believe  I  told  you,  I  have  been  in  Paris  but  very  few 
days.  No — but,  perhaps,  you  will  permit  me  to  call  to 
mind — stay  I" 

The  count  placed  his  hand  on  his  brow  as  if  to  collect 
his  thoughts. 

"  No— it  was  somewhere — away  from  here — it  was — I  do 
not  know — but  appears  that  this  recollection  is  connected 
with  a  lovely  sky  and  some  religious  fe"te  ;  mademoiselle 
was  holding  flowers  in  her  hand,  the  interesting  boy  was 
chasing  a  beautiful  peacock  in  a  garden,  and  you,  madame, 
were  under  the  trellis  of  some  arbor.  Pray  come  to  my 
aid,  madame  ;  do  not  these  circumstances  bring  to  your 
mind  some  reminiscences?" 

"  No,  indeed,"  replied  Mme.  de  Villefort ;  "and  yet  it 
appears  to  me,  sir,  that  if  I  had  met  you  anywhere,  the 
recollection  of  you  must  have  been  imprinted  on  my 
memory." 

"  Perhaps  M.  le  Comte  saw  us  in  Italy/'  said  Valentine, 
timidly. 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRI8TO.  603 

"  Yes,  in  Italy ;  it  was  in  Italy  most  probably/'  replied 
Monte  Cristo ;  "  you  have  travelled  then  in  Italy,  made- 
moiselle?" 

"  Yes  ;  madame  and  I  were  there  two  years  ago.  The 
doctors  were  afraid  of  my  lungs,  and  prescribed  the  air  of 
Naples.  We  went  by  Bologna,  Perusa,  and  Rome." 

"Ah,  yes — true,  mademoiselle,"  exclaimed  Monte  Cristo, 
as  if  this  simple  indication  was  sufficient  to  determine  his 
recollection.  "  It  was  at  Perusa  on  the  day  of  the  Fete- 
Dieu  in  the  garden  of  the  Hdtel  des  Postes,  when  chance 
brought  us  together ;  yon,  Mme.  de  Villefort  and  your 
son ;  I  now  remember  having  had  the  honor  of  meeting 
you." 

"  I  perfectly  remember  Perusa,  sir,  and  the  Hdtel  des 
Postes,  and  the  f6te  to  which  you  allude,"  said  Mme.  de 
Villefort,  "but  in  vain  do  I  tax  my  memory,  of  whose 
treachery  I  am  ashamed,  for  I  really  do  not  recall  to  mind 
that  I  ever  had  the  pleasure  of  seeing  you  before." 

"  It  is  strange,  but  neither  do  I  recollect  meeting  with 
you,"  observed  Valentine,  raising  her  beautiful  eyes  to  the 
count. 

"  But  I  remember  it  perfectly,"  interposed  the  darling 
Edward. 

"  I  will  assist  your  memory,  madame,"  continued  the 
count ;  "  the  day  had  been  burning  hot ;  yon  were  waiting 
for  horses,  which  were  delayed  in  consequence  ol  the  fes- 
tival. Mademoiselle  was  walking  in  the  shade  of  the 
garden,  and  your  son  disappeared  in  pursuit  of  the  bird." 

"And  I  caught  it,  mamma,  don't  you  remember?"  inter- 
posed Edward,  "and  I  pulled  three  such  beautiful  feathers 
out  his  tail." 

"  Yon,  madame,  remained  under  the  arbor  formed  by 
the  vine  ;  do  you  not  remember,  that  while  you  were  seated 
on  a  stone  bench,  and  while,  as  I  told  you,  Mdlle.  de  Ville- 
fort and  your  young  son  were  absent,  you  conversed  for  a 
considerable  time  with  somebody?" 

"  Yes,  in  truth,  yes,"  answered  the  young  lady,  turning 
very  red,  "  I  do  remember  conversing  with  an  individual 
wrapped  in  a  long  woolen  mantle;  he  was  a  medical  man, 
I  think." 

"  Precisely  so,  madame;  this  man  was  myself;  for  a 
fortnight  I  had  been  at  that  hotel,  during  which  period  I 
had  cured  my  valet-de-chambre  of  a  fever  and  my  landlord 


604  THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CR18TO. 

of  the  jaundice,  so  that  I  realty  acquired  a  reputation  as  a 
skillful  physician.  We  discoursed  a  long  time,  inadame, 
on  different  subjects;  of  Perugino,  of  Raffaelle,  of  manners, 
customs,  of  the  famous  aquatofana.  of  which  they  had 
told  you,  I  think  you  said,  that  certain  individuals  in 
Perusa  had  preserved  the  secret." 

"  Yes,  true,"  replied  Mme.  de  Villefort,  with  a  kind  of 
uneasiness,  "I  remember  now." 

"  I  do  not  recollect  now  all  the  various  subjects  of  which 
we  discoursed,  madame,"  continued  the  count,  with  perfect 
calmness;  "  but  I  perfectly  remember  that,  falling  into  the 
error  which  others  had  entertained  respecting  me,  you 
consulted  me  as  to  the  health  of  Mdlle.  de  Villefort." 

"Yes,  really,  sir,  you  were  in  fact  a  medical  man," 
said  Mme.  de  Villefort,  "since  you. had  cured  the  sick." 

"Moliere  or  Beanmarchais  would  reply  to  you,  madame, 
that  it  was  precisely  because  I  was  not,  that  I  had  cured 
my  patients;  for  myself,  I  am  content  to  say  to  you  that  I 
have  studied  chemistry  and  the  natural  sciences  somewhat 
deeply,  but  still  only  as  an  amateur,  you  understand." 

At  this  moment  the  clock  struck  six. 

"  It  is  6  o'clock,"  said  Mme.  de  Villefort,  evidently  agi- 
tated. "  Valentine,  will  you  not  go  and  see  if  your  grand- 
papa will  have  his  dinner?" 

Valentine  rose  and  saluting  the  count,  left  the  apart- 
ment without  replying  a  single  word. 

"  Oh,  madame  !"  said  the  count,  when  Valentine  had 
left  the  room,  "was  it  on  my  account  that  you  sent  Mdlle. 
de  Villefort  away?" 

"By  no  means,"  replied  the  young  lady  quickly;  "but 
this  is  the  hour  when  we  give  to  M.  Noirtier  the  sad 
repast  which  supports  his  sad  existence.  You  are  aware, 
sir,  of  the  deplorable  condition  of  my  husband's  father?" 

"  Yes,  madame,  M.  de  Villefort  spoke  of  it  to  me — a 
paralysis,  I  think." 

"Alas,  yes!  there  is  an  entire  want  of  movement  in  the 
frame  of  the  poor  old  gentleman;  the  mind  alone  is  still 
active  in  this  human  machine,  and  that  is  faint  and 
flickering,  like  the  light  of  a  lamp  about  to  expire.  But 
excuse  me,  sir,  for  talking  of  our  domestic  misfortunes;  1 
interrupted  you  at  the  moment  when  you  were  telling  me 
that  you  were  a  skillful  chemist." 

"  No,  madame,  I  did   not  say  so  much  as  that,"  replied 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRI8TO.  605 

the  count,  with  a  smile;  "  quite  the  contrary.  I  have 
studied  chemistry  because,  having  determined  to  live  in 
eastern  climates,  I  have  been  desirous  of  following  the 
example  of  King  Mithridates." 

"  Mithridates,  rex  Ponticus,"  said  the  young  scamp,  as 
he  tore  some  beautiful  portraits  out  of  a  splendid  album, 
"  the  individual  who  breakfasted  every  morning  with  a  cup 
of  poison  a  la  creme." 

"Edward,  you  naughty  boy!"  exclaimed  Mme.  de  Ville- 
fort,  snatching  the  mutilated  book  from  the  urchin's  grasp; 
"  you  are  positively  past  bearing;  you  really  disturb  the 
conversation:  go,  leave  us  and  join  your  sister  Valentine 
in  dear  grandpapa  Noirtier's  room." 
The  album,"  said  Edward,  sulkily. 
What  do  you  mean?— the  album!" 
I  want  the  album." 

'  How  dare  you  tear  out  the  drawings?*' 
'  Oh,  it  amuses  me." 
'  Go — go  directly." 

'  I  won't  go  unless  you  give  me  the  album,"  said  the 
boy,  seating  himself  doggedly  in  an  arm-chair,  according 
to  his  habit  of  never  giving  way. 

"Take  it,  then  and  pray  disturb  us  no  longer,"  said 
Mme.  de  Villefort,  giving  the  album  to  Edward,  who  then 
went  toward  the  door,  led  by  his  mother.  The  count  fol- 
lowed her  with  his  eyes. 

"  Let  us  see  if  she  shuts  the  door  after  him,"  he  muttered. 
Mme.  de  Villefort  closed  the  door  carefully  after  the  child, 
the  count  appearing  not  to  notice  her;  then  casting  a 
scrutinizing  glance  around  the  chamber,  the  young  wife 
returned  to  her  chair,  in  which  she  seated  herself. 

"  Allow  me  to  observe,  madame,"  said  the  count,  with 
that  kind  tone  he  could  assume  so  well,  "  you  are  really 
very  severe  with  that  dear,  clever  child." 

"  Oh,  sometimes  severity  is  quite  necessary,"  replied 
Mme.  de  Villefort,  with  all  a  mother's  real  firmness. 

"  It  was  his  Cornelius  Nepos  that  Master  Edward  was 
repeating  when  he  referred  to  King  Mithridates,"  contin- 
ued the  count,  "  and  you  interrupted  him  in  a  quotation 
which  proves  that  his  tutor  has  by  no  means  neglected 
him,  for  your  son  is  really  advanced  for  his  years." 

"  The  fact  is,  M.  le  Comte,"  answered  the  mother  agree- 
ably flattered,  "  he  has  great  aptitude  and  learns  all  that 


606  THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO. 

is  set  before  him.  He  has  but  one  fault,  he  is  somewhat 
willful;  but  really,  on  referring  for  the  moment  to  what  he 
said,  do  you  truly  believe  that  Mithridates  used  these 
precautions  and  that  these  precautions  were  efficacious?" 

"I  think  so,  madame,  because  I — I,  who  now  address 
you,  have  made  use  of  them,  that  I  might  not  be  poisoned 
at  Naples,  at  Palermo  and  at  Smyrna — that  is  to  say,  on 
three  several  occasions  of  my  life,  when,  but  for  these  pre- 
cautions, I  must  have  lost  my  life." 

"  And  your  precautions  were  successful?" 

"Completely  so." 

"  Yes,  I  remember  now  your  mentioning  to  meatPerusa 
something  of  this  sort." 

"  Indeed,  did  I?"  said  the  count,  with  an  air  of  surprise, 
remarkably  well  counterfeited;  "I  really  did  not  re- 
member it." 

"  I  inquired  of  you  if  poisons  acted  equally  and  with  the 
same  effect,  on  men  of  the  north  as  on  men  of  the  south; 
and  you  answered  me  that  the  cold  and  sluggish  habits  of 
the  north  did  not  present  the  same  aptitude  as  the  rich  and 
energetic  temperaments  of  the  natives  of  the  south." 

"  And  thatx  is  the  case,"  observed  Monte  Cristo.  "  I 
have  seen  Kussians  devour,  without  being  visibly  incon- 
venienced, vegetable  substances  which  would  infallibly 
have  killed  a  Neapolitan  or  an  Arab." 

"  And  you  really  believe  the  result  would  be  still  more 
sure  with  us  than  in  the  east  and  in  the  midst  of  our  fogs 
and  rains  a  man  would  habituate  himself  more  easily  than 
in  a  warm  latitude  to  this  progressive  absorption  of 
poison." 

"  Certainly;  it  being  at  the  same  time  perfectly  under- 
stood that  he  should  have  been  duly  fortified  against  the 
poison  to  which  he  had  not  been  accustomed." 

"Yes,  I  understand  that;  and  how  would  you  habituate 
yourself,  for  instance,  or  rather  how  did  you  habituate  your- 
self to  it?" 

"  Oh,  very  easily.  Suppose  you  knew  beforehand  the 
poison  that  would  be  made  use  of  against  you;  suppose  the 
poison  was,  for  instance,  brucine " 

"  Brucine  is  extracted  from  the  Bruccea  ferruginea,  is  it 
not?"  inquired  Mme.  de  Villefort. 

"  Precisely,  madame,"  replied  Monte  Cristo  ;  "  but  I 
perceive  I  have  not  much  to  teach  you.  Allow  me  to  com- 


THE  CO  UNT  OF  MONTE  GRI8TO  607 

pliment  you  on  your  knowledge;  such  learning  is  very  rare 
among  ladies." 

"  Oh,  I  am  aware  of  that/'  said  Mme.  de  Villefort; 
"  but  I  have  a  passion  for  the  occult  sciences,  which  speak 
to  the  imagination  like  poetry  and  are  reducible  to  figures, 
like  an  algebraic  equation;  but  go  on,  I  pray  of  you;  what 
you  say  interests  me  to  the  greatest  degree. 

"Well,"  replied  Monte  Cristo,  "suppose,  then,  that  this 
poison  was  bruzine,  and  you  were  to  take  a  milligramme 
the  first  day,  two  milligrammes  the  second  day,  and  so  on. 
Well!  at  the  end  of  ten  days  you  would  have  taken  a  centi- 
gramme; at  the  end  of  twenty  days,  increasing  another 
milligramme,  you  would  have  taken  300  centigrammes; 
that  is  to  say,  a  dose  which  you  would  support  without  in- 
convenience, and  which  would  be  very  dangerous  for  any 
other  person  who  had  not  taken  the  same  precaution  as 
yourself.  Well,  then,  at  the  end  of  a  month,  when  drink- 
ing water  from  the  same  carafe,  you  would  kill  the  person 
who  had  drank  this  water  as  well  as  yourself,  without  your 
perceiving,  otherwise  than  from  slight  inconvenience,  that 
there  was  any  poisonous  substance  mingled  with  this 
water." 

"Do  you  know  any  other  counter-poisons?" 

"  I  do  not." 

"I  have  often  read,  and  read  again,  the  history  of 
Mithridates,"  said  Mme.  de  Villefort,  in  a  tone  of  reflec- 
tion, "  and  had  always  considered  it  as  a  fable." 

"No,  madame,  contrary  to  most  history,  it  is  a  truth; 
but  what  you  tell  me,  madame,  what  you  inquire  of  me, 
is  not  the  result  of  a  chance  question;  for  two  years  since 
you  asked  me  the  same  questions,  and  said,  too,  that  for  a 
very  long  time  this  history  of  Mithridates  occupied  your 
mind." 

"  True,  sir.  The  two  favorite  studies  of  my  youth  were 
botany  and  mineralogy;  and  subsequently,  when  I  learned 
that  the  use  of  simples  frequently  explained  the  whole 
history  of  a  people,  and  the  entire  life  of  individuals  in  the 
east,  as  flowers  betoken  and  symbolize  a  love  affair,  I  have 
regretted  I  was  not  a  man,  that  I  might  have  been  a 
Flamel,  a  Fontana  or  a  Cabanis." 

"And  the  more,  madame,"  said  Monte  Cristo,  "as  the 
Orientals  do  not  confine  themselves,  as  did  the  Mithridates, 
to  make  a  cuirass  of  his  poisons,  but  they  also  make  them 


608  THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO. 

a  dagger.  Science  becomes,  in  their  hands,  not  only  a 
defensive  weapon,  but  still  more  frequently  an  offensive 
one;  the  one  serves  against  all  their  physical  sufferings,  the 
other  against  all  their  enemies;  with  opium,  with  bella- 
donna, with  brucaea,  snake-wood,  the  cherry-laurel,  they 
put  to  sleep  all  those  who  would  arouse  them.  There  is 
not  one  of  those  women,  Egyptian,  Turk  or  Greek,  whom 
here  you  call  e  good  women/ who  do  not  know  how,  by 
means  of  chemistry,  to  stupefy  a  doctor,  and  in  psychology 
to  amaze  a  confessor." 

"  Really!"  said  Mme.  de  Villfort,  whose  eyes  sparkled 
with  strange  fire  at  this  conversation. 

"Eh,  indeed!  Yes,  madaine,"  continued  Monte  Cristo, 
"the  secret  dramas  of  the  east  begin  and  end  thus,  from 
the  plant  which  can  create  love,  to  the  plant  that  can 
cause  death;  from  the  draught  which  opens  heaven  before 
your  eyes  to  that  which  plunges  a  man  in  hell!  There  are 
as  many  shades  of  every  kind  as  there  are  caprices  and 
peculiarities  in  human,  physical  and  moral  nature;  and  I 
will  say  further — the  art  of  these  chemists  knows  excel- 
lently well  how  to  acommodate  and  proportion  the  remedy 
and  the  ill  to  its  yearnings  of  love,  or  its  desires  for 
vengeance." 

"  But,  sir,"  remarked  the  lady,  "  these  eastern  societies, 
in  the  midst  of  which  you  have  passed  a  portion  of  your 
existence,  are  as  wild  and  visionary  as  the  tales  that  come 
from  their  strange  land.  A  man  can  easily  be  put  out  of 
the  way  there,  then;  it  is,  indeed,  the  Bagdad  and  Bassora 
of  M.  Galland.  The  sultans  and  viziers,  who  rule  over 
such  society,  and  who  constitute  what  in  France  we  call 
the  government,  are,  in  fact,  really  these  Haroun-al- 
Raschids  and  Giaffars,  who  not  only  pardon  a  poisoner, 
but  even  make  him  a  prime  minister,  if  his  crime  has  been 
an  ingenious  one,  and  who,  under  such  circumstances,  have 
the  whole  story  written  in  letters  of  gold,  to  divert  theii 
hours  of  idleness  and  ennui." 

"  By  no  means,  madame;  the  fanciful  exists  no  longer  in 
the  east.  There  are  there  now,  disguised  under  other  names, 
and  concealed  under  other  costumes,  agents  of  police, 
magistrates,  attorney-generals  and  bailiffs.  They  hang, 
behead  and  impale  their  criminals  in  the  most  agreeable 
possible  manner;  but  some  of  these  like  clever  rogues,  have 
contrived  to  escape  human  justice,  and  succeed  in  their 


THE  CO  UNT  OF  MONTE  GRISTO.  609 

fraudulent  enterprises  by  cunning  stratagems.  Among  UB 
a  simpleton,  possessed  by  the  demon  of  hate  or  cupidity, 
who  has  an  enemy  to  destroy,  or  some  near  relation  to 
dispose  of,  goes  straight  to  the  grocer's  or  druggist's,  gives  a 
false  name,  which  leads  more  easily  to  his  detection  than 
his  real  one,  and  purchases,  under  a  pretext  that  the  rats 
prevent  him  from  sleeping,  5  or  6  pennyworth  of  arsenic — 
if  he  is  really  a  cunning  fellow,  he  goes  to  five  or  six 
different  druggists  or  grocers,  and  thereby  becomes  only 
five  or  six  times  more  easily  traced;  then,  when  he  has  ac- 
quired his  specific,  he  administers  duly  to  his  enemy,  or 
near  kinsman,  a  dose  of  arsenic  which  would  make  a  mam- 
moth or  mastodon  burst,  and  which,  without  rhyme  or 
reason,  makes  his  victim  utter  groans  which  alarm  the 
entire  neighborhood.  Then  arrive  a  crowd  of  policemen 
and  constables.  They  fetch  a  doctor,  wfto  opens  the  dead 
body  and  collects  from  the  entrails  and  stomach  a  quantity  of 
arsenic  in  a  spoon.  Next  day  100  newspapers  relate  the  fact, 
with  the  names  of  the  victim  and  the  murderer.  The  same 
evening  the  grocer  or  grocers,  druggist  or  druggists,  come 
and  say,  *  It  was  I  who  sold  the  arsenic  to  the  gentleman 
accused;'  and  rather  than  not  recognize  the  guilty  pur- 
chaser, they  will  recognize  twenty.  Then  the  foolish 
criminal  is  taken,  imprisoned,  interrogated,  confronted, 
confounded,  condemned  and  cut  off  by  hemp  or  steel;  or 
if  she  be  a  woman  of  any  consideration,  they  lock  her  up 
for  life.  This  is  the  way  in  which  you  northerns  under- 
stand chemistry,  madame.  Desrues,  was,  however,  I  must 
confess,  more  skillful." 

"  What  would  you  have,  sir?"  said  the  lady,  laughing; 
"  we  do  what  we  can.  All  the  world  has  not  the  secret 
of  the  Medicis  or  the  Borgias."  > 

"  Now/'  replied  the  count,  shrugging  his  shoulders, 
"  shall  I  tell  you  the  cause  of  all  these  stupidities?  It  is 
because,  at  your  theaters,  by  what  at  least  I  could  judge 
by  reading  the  pieces  they  play,  they  see  persons  swallow 
the  contents  of  a  vial,  or  suck  the  button  of  a  ring,  and 
fall  dead  instantly.  Five  minutes  afterward  the  curtain 
falls,  and  the  spectators  depart.  They  are  ignorant  of  the 
consequences  of  the  murder;  they  see  neither  the  commis- 
sary of  police  with  his 'badge  of  office,  nor  the  corporal 
with  his  four  men;  and  that  is  an  authority  for  weak 
brains  to  believe  that  this  is  the  way  that  things  pass. 


610  THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO. 

But  go  a  little  way  from  France — go  either  to  Aleppo  or 
Cairo,  or  only  to  Naples  or  Rome,  and  you  will  see  people 
passing  by  you  in  the  streets — people  erect,  smiling  and 
fresh-colored,  of  whom  Asmodeus,  if  you  were  holding  on 
by  the  skirt  of  his  mantle,  would  say,  '  That  man  was 
poisoned  three  weeks  ago;  he  will  be  a  dead  man  in  a 
month.'" 

"  Then,"  remarked  Mme.  de  Villef  ort,  "  they  have  again 
discovered  the  secret  of  the  famous  aqua-tofana  that  they 
said  was  lost  at  Perusa." 

"  Eh,  indeed,  does  mankind  ever  lose  anything?  The 
arts  are  removed,  and  make  a  tour  of  the  world;  things 
change  their  names,  and  the  vulgar  do  not  follow  them — 
that  is  all;  but  there  is  always  the  same  result.  Poison 
acts  particularly  on  one  organ  or  the  other — one  on  the 
stomach,  another  on  the  brain,  another  on  the  intestines. 
Well,  the  poison  brings  on  a  cough,  the  cough  an  in- 
flammation of  the  lungs,  or  some  other  complaint  cata- 
logued in  the  book  of  science,  which,  however,  by  r.o 
means  precludes  it  from  being  decidedly  mortal:  and  if  it 
were  not  would  be  sure  to  become  so,  thanks  to  the  reme- 
dies applied  by  foolish  doctors,  who  are  generally  bad 
chemists,  and  which  will  act  in  favor  of  or  against  the 
malady,  as  you  please;  and  then  there  is  a  human  being 
killed  according  to  all  the  rules  of  art  and  skill,  and  of 
whom  justice  learns  nothing,  as  was  said  by  a  terrible 
chemist  of  my  acquaintance,  the  worthy  Abbe  Adelmonte 
de  Taormine,  in  Sicily,  who  has  studied  these  national 
phenomena  very  profoundly." 

"  It  is  quite  frightful,  but  deeply  interesting,"  said  the 
young  lady,  motionless  with  attention.  "  I  thought,  I 
must  confess,  that  these  tales  were  inventions  of  the  middle 
ages." 

"Yes,  no  doubt,  but  improved  upon  by  ours.  What  k 
the  use  of  time,  encouragements,  medals,  crosses,  Monthyon 
prizes,  etc.,  etc,,  if  they  do  not  lead  society  toward  more 
complete  perfection?  Yet  man  will  never  be  perfect  until 
he  learns  to  create  and  destroy;  he  does  know  how  to 
destroy,  and  that  is  half  way  on  the  road." 

"  So,"  added  Mme.  de  Villefort,  constantly  returning  to 
her  object,  "the  poisons  of  the  Borgias,  the  Medicis,  the 
Renes,  the  Ruggieris  and  later,  probably,  that  of  Baron  de 
Trenck,  whose  story  has  been  so  misused  by  modern  drama 
and  romance " 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTH  CRI8TO.  611 

"Were  objects  of  art,  madame,  and  nothing  more/'  re- 
plied the  count.  "  Do  you  suppose  that  the  real  savant 
addresses  himself  stupidly  to  the  mere  individual:'  By  no 
means.  Science  loves  eccentricities,  leaps  and  bounds, 
trials  of  strength,  fancies,  if  I  may  be  allowed  so  to  term 
them.  Thus,  for  instance,  the  excellent  Abbe  Adelmonte, 
of  whom  I  spoke  to  you  just  now,  made  in  this  way  some 
marvelous  experiments/' 

"Really!" 

"Yes;  I  will  mention  one  to  you.  He  had  a  remarkably 
fine  garden,  full  of  vegetables,  flowers  and  fruit.  From 
among  these  vegetables  he  selected  the  most  simple — a 
cabbage,  for  instance.  For  three  days  he  watered  this 
cabbage  with  a  distillation  of  arsenic;  on  the  third,  the 
cabbage  began  to  droop  and  turn  yellow.  At  that  moment 
he  cut  it.  In  the  eyes  of  everybody  it  seemed  fit  for  table 
and  preserved  its  wholesome  appearance.  It  was  only 
poisoned  to  the  Abbe  Adelmonte.  He  then  took  the 
cabbage  to  the  room  where  he  had  rabbits — for  the  Abbe 
Adelmonte  had  a  collection  of  rabbits,  cats  and  guinea 
pigs,  equally  fine  as  his  collection  of  vegetables,  flowers 
and  fruit.  Well,  the  Abbe  Adelmonte  took  a  rabbit  and 
made  it  eat  a  leaf  of  the  cabbage.  The  rabbit  died.  What 
magistrate  would  find,  or  even  venture  to  insinuate,  any- 
thing against  this?  What  procureur  du  roi  has  ever  ventured 
to  draw  up  an  accusation  against  M.  Magendie  or  M. 
Flourens  in  consequence  of  the  rabbits,  cats  and  guinea 
pigs  they  have  killed?  Not  one.  So,  then,  the  rabbit 
dies  and  justice  takes  no  notice.  This  rabbit  dead,  the 
Abbe  Adelmonte  has  its  entrails  taken  out  by  his  cook  and 
thrown  on  the  dunghill.  On  this  dunghill  was  a  hen,  who, 
pecking  these  intestines,  was  in  her  turn  taken  ill  and 
dies  next  day.  At  the  moment  when  she  was  strug- 
gling in  the  convulsions  of  death  a  vulture  was  flying  by — 
there  are  a  good  many  vultures  in  Adelmonte's  country. 
This  bird  darts  on  the  dead  bird  and  carries  it  away  to  a 
rock,  where  it  dines  off  its  prey.  Three  days  afterward 
this  poor  vulture,  who  has  been  very  much  indisposed 
since  that  dinner,  feels  very  giddy  suddenly  while  flying 
aloft  in  the  clouds  and  falls  heavily  into  a  fish-pond.  The 
pike,  eels  and  carp  eat  greedily  always,  as  everybody  knows. 
Well,  they  feast  on  the  vulture.  Well,  suppose  the  next 
day  one  of  these  eels,  or  pike,  or  carp  is  served  at  your 


612  THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  GRISTO. 

table,  poisoned  as  they  are  to  the  third  generation.  Well, 
then,  your  guest  will  be  poisoned  in  the  fifth  generation 
and  die,  at  the  end  of  eight  or  ten  days,  of  pains  in  the 
intestines,  sickness  or  abscess  of  the  pylorus.  The  doctors 
open  the  body  and  say,  with  an  air  of  profound  learning  : 
'The  subject  has  died  of  a  tumor  on  the  liver,  or  of 
typhoid  fever." 

"But,"  remarked  Mme.  deVillefort,  "all  these  circum- 
stances which  you  link  thus  one  to  another  may  be  broken 
by  the  least  accident;  the  vulture  may  not  pass  at  the  pre- 
cise moment,  or  may  fall  a  hundred  yards  from  the  fish- 
pond." 

"Ah,  this  it  is  which  is  art.  To  be  a  great  chemist  in 
the  east  we  must  direct  chance,  and  this  is  to  be  achieved." 

Mme.  de  Villefort  was  deep  in  thought,  yet  listened 
attentively. 

"  But,"  she  exclaimed  suddenly,  "  arsenic  is  indelible, 
indestructible.  In  what  way  soever  it  is  absorbed,  it  will 
be  found  again  in  the  body  of  the  creature  from  the  mo- 
ment when  it  has  been  taken  in  sufficient  quantity  to  cause 
death." 

"  Precisely  so,"  cried  Monte  Cristo,  "  precisely  so;  and 
this  is  what  I  said  to  my  worthy  Adelmonte.  He  reflected, 
smiled  and  replied  to  me  by  a  Sicilian  proverb,  which  I 
believe  is  also  a  French  proverb:  'My  son,  the  world  was 
not  made  in  a  day,  but  in  seven.  Return  on  Sunday.'  On 
the  Sunday  following  I  did  return  to  him.  Instead  of 
having  watered  his  cabbage  with  arsenic,  he  had  watered 
it  this  time  with  a  solution  of  salts,  having  their  basis  in 
strychnine — strychnos  colubrina,  as  the  learned  term  it. 
Now,  the  cabbage  had  not  the  slightest  appearance  of 
disease  in  the  world  and  the  rabbit  had  not  the  smallest 
distrust;  yet,  five  minutes  afterward,  the  rabbit  was  dead. 
The  fowl  pecked  at  the  rabbit  and  the  next  day  was  a  dead 
hen.  This  time  we  were  the  vultures,  so  we  opened  the 
bird,  and  this  time  all  particular  symptoms  had  disap- 
peared— there  were  only  general  symptoms.  There  was 
no  peculiar  indication  in"  any  organ — an  excitement  of  the 
nervous  system — that  was  it;  a  case  of  cerebral  congestion, 
nothing  more.  The  fowl  had  not  been  poisoned,  she  had 
died  of  apoplexy.  Apoplexy  is  a  rave  disease  among 
fowls,  I  believe,  but  very  common  among  men." 

Mme.  de  Villefort  appeared  more  and  more  reflective. 


THE  CO  UNT  OF  MONTE  CRI8TO.  613 

"It  is  very  fortunate/'  she  observed,  "that  such  sub- 
stances could  only  be  prepared  by  chemists;  for  else,  really, 
all  the  world  would  be  poisoning  each  other." 

"  By  chemists  and  persons  who  have  a  taste,  for  chem- 
istry, said  Monte  Cristo,  carelessjy. 

"And  then,"  said  Mme.  de  Villefort,  endeavoring  by  a 
struggle  and  with  effort  to  get  away  from  her  thoughts, 
"  however  skillfully  it  is  prepared,  crime  is  always  crime, 
and  if  it  avoid  human  scrutiny  it  does  not  escape  the  eye 
of  God.  The  Orientals  are  stronger  than  we  are  in  cases 
of  conscience,  and  very  prudently  have  no  hell — that  is 
the  point. " 

"  Really,  madame,  this  is  a  scruple  which  naturally  must 
occur  to  a  pure  mind  like  yours,  but  which  would  easily 
yield  before  sound  reasoning.  The  bad  side  of  human 
thought  will  always  be  defined  by  the  paradox  of  Jean 
Jacques  Rousseau,  you  know,  the  madarin  who  is  killed  at 
500  leagues  distance  by  raising  the  tip  of  the  finger.  Man's 
whole  life  passes  in  doing  these  things  and  his  intellect  is 
exhausted  by  reflecting  on  them.  You  will  find  very  few 
persons  who  will  go  and  brutally  thrust  a  knife  in  the  heart 
of  a  fellow-creature,  or  will  administer  to  him,  in  order  to 
remove  him  from  the  surface  of  the  globe  on  which  we  move 
with  life  and  animation,  that  quantity  of  arsenic  of  which 
we  just  now  talked.  Such  a  thing  is  really  out  of  rule — 
eccentric  or  stupid.  To  attain  such  a  point,  the  blood 
must  be  warmed  to  thirty-six  degrees,  the  pulse  be,  at 
least,  at  ninety,  and  the  feelings  excited  beyond  the  ordin- 
ary limit.  But  if  passing,  as  we  do  in  philology,  from  the 
word  itself  to  its  softened  synonym,  you  make  an  elimi- 
nation— a  simple  change  of  words;  instead  of  committing 
an  ignoble  assassination,  if  you  merely  and  simply  remove 
from  your  path  the  individual  who  is  in  your  way,  and 
that  without  shock  or  violence,  without  the  display  of 
those  sufferings  which,  becoming  a  punishment,  make  a 
martyr  of  the  victims  and  of  him  who  inflicts  them  a 
butcher,  in  every  sense  of  the  word;  if  there  be  no  blood, 
no  groans,  no  convulsions,  and  above  all,  that  horrid  and 
compromising  moment  of  accomplishing  the  act,  then  one 
escapes  the  clutch  of  the  human  law,  which  says  to  you, 
4  Do  not  disturb  society  ?'  This  is  the  mode  in  which  they 
manage  these  things,  and  succeed  in  eastern  climes,  where 
there  are  grave  and  phlegmatic  persons  who  care  very  little 


614  THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO. 

for  the  questions  of  time  in  conjunctures  of  import- 
ance." 

"Yet  conscience  remains  I"  remarked  Mine,  de  Villefort, 
in  an  agitated  voice  and  with  a  stifled  sigh. 

"  Yes,"  answered  Mocte  Cristo,  "  happily,  yes,  con- 
science does  remain;  and  if  it  did  not,  how  wretched  we 
should  be  ,  After  every  action  requiring  exertion,  it  is 
conscience  that  saves  us,  for  it  supplies  us  with  a  thousand 
good  excuses,  of  which  we  alone  are  judges;  and  these 
reasons,  how  excellent  soever  in  producing  sleep,  would 
avail  us  but  very  little  before  a  tribunal,  when  we  were 
tried  for  our  lives.  Thus  Richard  III,  for  instance,  was 
marvelously  served  by  his  conscience  after  the  putting  away 
of  the  two  children  of  Edward  IV;  in  fact,  he  could  say, 
'  These  two  children  of  a  cruel  and  persecuting  king,  who 
have  inherited  the  vices  of  their  father,  which  I  alone  could 
perceive  in  their  juvenile  propensities — these  two  children 
are  impediments  in  my  way  of  promoting  the  happiness  of 
the  English  people,  whose  unhappiness  they  (the  children) 
would  infallibly  have  caused/  Thus  was  Lady  Macbeth 
served  by  her  conscience,  when  she  sought  to  give  her  son, 
and  not  her  husband  (whatever  Shakspeare  may  say),  a 
throne.  Ah,  maternal  love  is  a  great  virtue,  a  powerful 
motive — so  powerful  that  it  excuses  a  multitude  of  things, 
even  if,  after  Duncan's  deafch,  Lady  Macbeth  had  been  at 
all  pricked  by  her  conscience." 

Mme  de  Villefort  listened  with  avidity  to  these  appal- 
ling maxims  and  horrible  paradoxes,  delivered  by  the  count 
with  that  ironical  simplicity  which  was  peculiar  to  him. 
After  a  moment's  silence,  the  lady  inquired,  "Do  you 
know,"  she  said,  "  M.  le  Comte,  that  you  are  a  very  terri- 
ble reasoner,  and  that  you  look  at  the  world  through  a 
somewhat  distempered  medium  ?  Have  you  really  mea- 
sured the  world  by  scrutinies,  or  through  alembics  and 
crucibles  ?  For,  truth  to  say,  you  are  a  great  chemist, 
and  the  elixir  you  administered  to  my  son,  which  recalled 
him  to  life  almost  instantaneously " 

"  Oh,  do  not  place  any  reliance  on  that,  madame;  one 
drop  of  that  elixir  sufficed  to  recall  life  to  a  dying  child, 
but  three  drops  would  have  impelled  the  blood  into  his 
lungs  in  such  a  way  as  to  have  produced  most  violent 
palpitations;  six  would  have  suspended  his  respiration, 
and  caused  syncope  more  serious  than  that  in  which  he 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO.  615 

was;  ten  would  have  destroyed  him.  You  know,  madame, 
how  suddenly  I  snatched  him  from  those  vials  which  he 
so  imprudently  touched  ?" 

"  Is  it,  then,  so  terrible  a  poison  ?" 

"  Oh,  no  !  In  the  first  place,  let  us  agree  that  the  word 
poison  does  not  exist,  because  in  medicine  use  is  made  of 
the  most  violent  poisons,  which  become,  according  as  they 
are  made  use  of,  most  salutary  remedies." 

"What,  then,  is  it  ?" 

A  skillful  preparation  of  my  friend's  the  worthy  Abb6 
Adelmonte,  who  taught  me  the  use  of  it." 

"  Oh,  observed  Mme.  de  Villefort,  "  it  must  be  an  ad- 
mirable anti-spasmodic." 

"Perfect,  madame,  as  you  have  seen,"  replied  the  count; 
"and  I  frequently  make  use  of  it — with  all  possible  pru- 
dence, though,  be  it  observed,"  he  added,  with  a  smile  of 
intelligence. 

"  Most  assuredly,"  responded  Mme.  de  Villefort,  in  the 
same  tone.  "  As  for  me,  so  nervous,  and  so  subject  to 
fainting-fits,  I  should  require  a  Dr.  Adelmonte  to  invent 
for  me  some  means  of  breathing  freely  and  tranquilizing 
my  mind,  in  the  fear  I  have  of  dying  some  fine  day  of 
suffocation.  In  the  meanwhile,  as  the  thing  is  difficult  to 
find  in  France,  and  your  abbe  is  not  probably  disposed  to 
make  a  journey  to  Paris  on  my  account,  I  must  continue 
to  use  the  anti-spasmodics  of  M.  Planch6;  and  mint  and 
Hoffman's  drops  are  among  my  favorite  remedies.  Here 
are  some  lozenges  which  I  have  made  up  on  purpose;  they 
are  compounded  doubly  strong." 

Monte  Cristo  opened  the  tortoise-shell  box,  which  the 
lady  presented  to  him,  and  imbibed  the  odor  of  the 
lozenges  with  the  air  of  an  amateur  who  thoroughly  ap- 
preciated their  composition. 

"  They  are  indeed  exquisite,"  he  said;  "but  as  they  are 
necessarily  submitted  to  the  process  of  deglutition — a 
function  which  it  is  frequently  impossible  for  a  fainting 
person  to  accomplish — I  perfer  my  own  specific." 

"  Undoubtly,  and  so  should  I  prefer  it,  after  the  effects 
I  have  seen  produced;  but  of  course  it  is  a  secret,  and  I 
am  not  so  indiscreet  as  to  ask  it  of  you." 

"  But  I,"  said  Monte  Cristo,  rising  as  he  spoke — "  I  arn 
gallant  enough  to  offer  it  you." 

"  Oh,  sir  P 


616  THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRI8TO. 

"  Only  remember  one  thing — a  small  dose  is  a  remedy,  a 
large  one  is  poison.  One  drop  will  restore  life,  as  you  have 
witnessed;  five  or  six  will  inevitably  kill,  and  in  a  way  the 
more  terrible  inasmuch  as,  poured  into  a  glass  of  wine,  it 
would  not  in  the  slightest  degree  affect  its  flavor.  But  I 
say  no  more,  madame;  it  is  really  as  if  I  were  advising  you." 

The  clock  struck  six,  and  a  lady  was  announced,  a 
friend  of  Mme.  de  Villefort,  who  came  to  dine  with  her. 

"  If  I  had  had  the  honor  of  seeing  you  for  the  third  or 
fourth  time,  M.  le  Comte,  instead  of  only  for  the  second," 
said  Mme.  de  Villefort;  "if  I  had  had  the  honor  of  being 
your  friend,  instead  of  only  having  the  happiness  of  lying 
under  an  obligation  to  you,  I  should  insist  on  detaining 
you  to  dinner,  and  not  allow  myself  to  be  daunted  by  a  first 
refusal." 

"  A  thousand  thanks,  madame/'  replied  Monte  Cristo, 
"but  I  have  an  engagement  which  I  cannot  break;  I  have 
promised  to  escort  to  the  Academie  a  Greek  princess  of 
my  acquaintance  who  has  never  seen  your  grand  opera,  and 
who  relies  on  me  to  conduct  her  thither." 

"Adieu,  then,  sir,  and  do  not  forget  my  receipe." 

"  Ah,  in  truth,  madame,  to  do  that  I  must  forget  the 
hour's  conversation  I  have  had  with  you,  which  is  indeed 
impossible." 

Monte  Cristo  bowed,  and  left  the  house.  Mme.  de 
Villefort  remained  immersed  in  thought. 

"  He  is  a  very  strange  man,"  she  said,  "and  in  my 
opinion  is  himself  the  Adelmonte  he  talks  about."  As  to 
Monte  Cristo,  the  result  had  surpassed  his  utmost  ex- 
pectations. 

"  Good  !"  said  he,  as  he  went  away;  "  this  is  a  fruitful 
soil,  and  I  feel  certain  that  the  seed  sown  will  not  be  cast 
on  barren  ground."  Next  morning,  faithful  to  his  promise, 
he  sent  the  prescription  requested. 

END  OF  VOLUME  ONE. 


UC  SOUTHERN  REGIONAL  LIBRARY  FACILITY 


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